


not even the stars

by KeyKnows



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Super
Genre: Backstory, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Brotherly Bonding, Family, Friendship, Gen, Minor Character Death, Prophetic Dreams, Spiritual, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyKnows/pseuds/KeyKnows
Summary: From humility comes divinity, even if after millennia the gods tend to forget it.[or how Beerus ended up a God of Destruction]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot of feels about Beerus and Champa, and here is my attempt at a super non canonical backstory and, well, I hope you like it, this has been sitting in my files for some time so, here it is!

The stone breaks easily between his fingers. It puts resistance at first and he feels its hard edges digging into his skin, but it eventually gives away.

It doesn’t crumble in smaller, irregular pieces of itself, but rather he presses with enough force to transform it into dust, very fine dust…but not fine enough, he notices with mild curiosity, as he opens his hand and in the middle of the cascade of sand come little pieces of rock.

The dust settle softly between his bare feet and he looks at it for a moment before taking another rock, from the dozens that lay around him, and crushing it too, making  miniature sand dunes in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Champa asks him with annoyance, coming to stand beside him and covering the sun “We’re supposed to be looking for food, you know.”

Beerus ignores him for a moment and continues with his pointless task. Champa grumbles besides him and he cracks a smile.

“Nothing,” Beerus says at least, having effectively bother the other, “I’m just…crushing rocks.”

“What for?” Champa asks him as he copies his posture and squats besides him.

Beerus shrugs and crushes another rock. What for indeed.

Champa takes one rock too, there a lot of them laying around, they’re in the middle of some debris, in the ruins of what was probably a small house; they can’t tell and they don’t care.

He imitates his twin brother and crushes the rock too, adding another mini dune to Beerus’ collection.

They stay there for a while, repeating the same action again and again until the rocks at their hand run out and they have the model of a desert in front of them.

“This is boring,” Champa declares standing up, Beerus following him, “stop messing around and help me find some food, I’m hungry!”

Beerus doesn’t move, however, and looks at their small creation. They crushed a lot of rocks so the dust is thick and it really does look like a desert.

“What a waste of time,” Champa scoffs and kicks the dust “c’mon!”

Their small desert is effectively destroyed then and Beerus watches the particles scatter in the air; there’s no wind so they just float and settle again, slowly and without any order, invisible now that they’re apart.

“Yeah,” Beerus concurs “what a waste of time.”

Champa makes a face.

“Why were you even doing it then?!”

“I don’t know, why you joined me then?”

Champa moans something about Beerus being a pain in the ass and how hungry he is and Beerus smirks with superiority. Still, he says no more to annoy his brother and joins him in their quest for something to eat today, after all, that’s the reason they came all the way here.

* * *

The sun is already setting when they head home. Night is taking away the hazy pink of the sky, replacing it with velvety darkness and they hurry as much as possible since it’s dangerous out here.

They arrive when the four moons are well visibly in the sky and the stars wink happily at them, ignorant of their struggles and uncaring of them.

They enter a cave with a pretty small entrance, wiggle between the rocks to get in and then move forward to the deepest part, expertly navigating the narrow walls and coming out into a huge chamber with big stalactites hanging from its tall ceiling.

Once in the security of their home, Champa starts a fire with previously recollected firewood and a ki blast bigger than necessary.

Meanwhile, Beerus examines today’s spoils. They encountered a caravan of merchants and were able to steal various goods from them, not only food but also some clothes, jewels and medicine or whatever is inside the multiple flasks they got. They weren’t very exigent in their robbery and there wasn’t time to really check what they were taking, not while Beerus risked his life distracting them and Champa took all that was at hand.   

They also managed to kill some kind of reptile to get meat, but the animal was too big to take it all home and they were already struggling carrying their stolen goods, so they left more than half the corpse in the middle of the forest to feed the scavengers of nature. Maybe they can go there tomorrow and see if something remains.

None of them talks much while they inspect the items and decide what is for who, some meat cooking leisurely over the cracking fire. They try to ignore their grumbling stomachs but the smell of a long awaited meal soon impregnates the air and they decide to leave the task for after dinner.

They eat in silence too, diving the meal in equal parts.

“I hope the corpse is still there tomorrow,” Champa says when he finishes his piece of meat “that monster tastes really good!” he lets out a content sigh and lets himself fall on his back.

“Mmhm,” Beerus agrees, still gnawing at a bone “maybe we should try to hunt over there more often.”

After Beerus is done with his food they continue to examine what they got. The clothes are big for them, they’re meant for adults and their scrawny, pre-pubescent bodies swim inside of them; they don’t have much use for the jewelry but they can sell it if the right time comes, meanwhile Beerus puts a silver necklace around his neck and Champa sports a set of golden wristlets: they won’t keep them but it’s nice to put them on for a while.

The flasks are the ones that take most time to sort out. Some of them are definitely medicine, they even have stamps that say what they’re for, but the others are full of liquids of different colors and they don’t have any sort of label.

“Just drink it and we’ll see what they are,” Beerus says, extending one to his brother.

“Piss off!” Champa answers.

Beerus snickers.

“Maybe they’re sweet,” he suggests and Champa’s ears twitch.

“Piss.off.” Champa says again, forcefully.

Beerus laughs and his brother curses. It wouldn’t be the first time he gets Champa to eat something with the promise of a sweet flavor but apparently he won’t fall for it anymore. Very wise of him.

When they finish sorting their stuff Champa puts out the fire with some sand and they go to sleep.

The cave is cold so they take some of the clothes and arrange something akin to a bed, near the remains of the fire. They cuddle against each other, protesting all the time about having to be in such close proximity, elbowing and biting the other in a playful manner, but at the end they still warp their arms around each other, get comfortable in their shared warm and Beerus nestles his head in Champa’s chest.

With their stomachs full, the security of having more to eat in the morning and the tiredness of a long day on their backs, sleeps finds them quickly.

* * *

Beerus dreams of someone. He cannot see them but their presence is strong and overwhelming, he feels like he will choke before them.

That someone talks and talks and talks, and since time is weird in dreams Beerus never tires of listening to them. They tell Beerus many things, something about the eternal chaos of the universe, about how there’s no evil or good but only two sides to every coin.

He dreams of a game, of a gamble between him and they: tossing a coin. It lands on tails every time it’s his turn.

When he wakes up the coin is still in the air but the image and the words of the mysterious presence evaporate quickly and they leave nothing but dizziness in his head.

He sits up in the middle of an empty bed and his eyes focus on Champa, who is cooking more meat. Beerus doesn’t miss the faraway gaze of his brother or the way he absently picks at the fire with a stick.

Champa offers him some meat for breakfast and Beerus goes sit in front of him to take his sharing.

Both of them eat in silence for a while until Champa takes his eyes from the fire.

“Say, Beerus,” Champa says slowly like he’s in some kind of daze “why do you think mom left us?”

The question makes the bite he just took taste bitter and Beerus swallows hard before meeting his brother’s eyes.

They never talk about this, never mention their mother or their shared memories of a family that is not. It’s not like they remember much anyway, not much besides warm hugs and sweet kisses and caring touches and lovely words, and waking up one day and being told “no more”.

Beerus looks at Champa and Champa looks at Beerus and Beerus would like to tell him to fuck off, but his brother seems serious and weirdly solemn and Champa is never serious nor solemn and his yellow eyes glimmer with something like hurt.

But it’s not really hurt, Beerus muses, because they decided to stop hurting time ago and he lacks the vocabulary to say what is what he sees in his brother’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says after an eternity and his voice dances between the borders of apathy and disdain “maybe she hated us.”

His voice ends up in the realm of rancor and he takes another bite of his already cold meat.

“I was thinking,” Champa says, heavily.

 Beerus doesn’t have the strength to tease with ‘you? thinking?’ so he just listens.

 “I was thinking…do you believe she was like, I don’t know, evil or something?”

Champa’s words make something ring inside his head, a familiar feeling of incertitude, like he’s having a deja-vu but not at all because there’s no previous experience to compare it to.

He feels like tossing a coin.

“No,” he says, surprising himself with the certainty of his voice “I think she was just…” he shrugs “…maybe she just didn’t want us anymore.”

Champa says nothing.

“Why?” Beerus questions then “Do you think she was like, evil?”

Champa shakes his head no.

“No, yes, I mean…I had thought, before, that she had to be a bad person because if she wasn’t she wouldn’t have left us… I mean,” he seems to meditate what he’s saying, Champa has never been good with words “I mean, if she wasn’t she wouldn’t have treat us like she did and then just left but…but I’m not that sure anymore.”

None of them say more after the small discourse, and when Beerus finishes his breakfast Champa urges him to go look for the corpse they abandoned yesterday.

* * *

When they arrive to the crime scene, in the middle of some rocky mountain above a forest, they discover most of the meat is already gone, chewed away by animals. They check to see if there’s anything worth saving and discover with disappointment that there isn’t.

They sit with their feet hanging off the edge of the cliff, looking at the sea of red colored trees under them, extending for miles and miles until the horizon swallows it. Between the pink sky and the deep crimson of the flora, the sight is plain, barely interrupted by some rock formations among the trees, but they find some sort of solace on its unchanging nature.

All of their life they have live here, in this small planet at the edge of some galaxy at the edge of the universe, and the view of the forest never seems to be different.

“Maybe we should try to kill something smaller next time,” Champa comments with a bored sigh, the rotting corpse at their backs.

“Maybe we could if you knew how to shot without setting the forest on fire!” Beerus says with bite.

“What?! You’re the one that’s always setting shit on fire!” Champa exclaims, his voice rising higher “That’s why I have to do it!”

Beerus scoff and turns his face with dignity, but Champa is not one to let things go just easily so he gets up with a jump and yells, pointing at Beerus with a finger.

“You think you’re so good! But you can’t back it up!”

“Shut up! You’re so useless I always have to save your ass!”

“Yeah! Like yesterday when this thing almost ate you and I had to kill it for you!”

“It wasn’t like that!” And Beerus gets up too.

They fight a lot, for two brothers that have no one but each other to relay on. They have always got into petty quarrels, they get from silly tease to monumental arguments with ease and there are times in which they’re adamant on not talking to each other ever again. That never lasts, of course, because there’s so much they need the other for.

“…yeah, well, then prove it!” Beerus exclaims “If you’re so much better than me! Prove it!”

“With pleasure!”

And Champa hits him hard, harder than a squabble between brothers deserves, right in the middle of the face.

Beerus stumbles a few steps back and holds his nose with both hands, looking at his brother with watery, fierce eyes. He returns the strike fast enough but Champa is waiting for it and blocks it. He’s not so lucky with the second one or the third, but by the forth he dodges and hits Beerus again.

They interchange blows like this for a while but things irremediably escalate and soon they’re in the air, shooting ki blasts at each other, waves and balls of energy that are a lot more powerful from what one would expect for a pair of scrawny, malnourished kids.

Their attacks and the energy around them is mesmerizing, strong and vibrant, it makes the earth around them rumble and fills the air with electricity.

 Still, every attack they throw, they block it, dodge it or deviate it with little effort. They aren’t fighting to kill after all, this is just his way of getting rid of pent up frustration and stress.

When they finally stop, there are treeless patches under them, the rocky mountain where they were standing isn’t as high anymore and there’s a small part of the forest that is pretty much on fire.

Both of them look at the result of their fight. Beerus’ nose is bleeding and Champa’s sight is obscured by blood coming from a cut in his eyebrow. They descend slowly and when their feet touch the ground Champa says, as casually as possible:

“So… _who_ set that on fire?”

Beerus snorts, and shortly afterwards erupts in laughter. Champa follows him quickly, effortlessly, like they hadn’t just blown up a part of the forest, like they aren’t bleeding, like they aren’t hurting.

Their laughter fills the morning air, mixing easily with the wind and the rustle of the trees, with the occasional animal call and the cracking of the fire.

Their laughter sounds like it belongs here, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the devastation.

* * *

After a few weeks they decide is time to go to the City and try to sell or trade some of the stuff they stole. It’s very rare for them to get their hands on sellable goods, since they don’t actively look for caravans to rob, but rather just do so when the opportunity presents.

They also almost never go to the City.

Their mother was kind of an outcast, for reasons that they didn’t know and they didn’t care to ask, they never questioned the fact that they lived a very rustic life in a cave, miles away from the nearest populated area.

It was just the way things were.

Cities in this planet are few and far in between, the nearest to their home being one of the biggest. Still, it pales in comparison to other flourishing civilizations.

The City is bustling with life anyway, people come and go, walking to unknown direction between buildings carved into tall rocks. The streets are wide to allow the transit of carriages and since they’re at the center, there’s also a lot of colorful shops along the streets.

However it isn’t here where they hope to get business done so they move between the shops, in the middle of the innumerable calls of merchants that promote their wares and slowly they get away from all the sound of the market, being ignored by everyone around.

 Eventually the streets start to become more and more narrow as they advance, transforming into dark alleys with tall buildings towering around them, obscuring the sun. 

There are merchants here too, but they don’t shout about having the best prices and the makeshift shops don’t seem to offer anything special. However they’re watched, not with insistence and not for long, but the people takes their time to asses them, to question their presence here.

After a while they get close to one of the shops and an old man, sitting behind an improvised counter, welcomes them with enthusiasm.

“Hey, kids,” the man says showing a smile with blacked teeth “long time no see, what brings you to my shop?”

“Hey,” Champa says “we came to do business!”

 “Oh, what you have to offer this time?”

“A lot of stuff,” Champa continues as he shows the merchant some of the things they got.

Beerus watches in silence their exchange, intervening only when he doesn’t like the deal his brother is getting which fortunately isn’t often. The old man knew their mother and knows they live in their own so, most of the time, he offers them a fair trade.

While they talk, Beerus notices movement at the end of the street from the corner of his eye, but he pays little attention to it. Early on they learned that it was best to don’t ever stick their nose in people’s business, especially around this area.

After a moment, however, he notices that the people at the end of the street seem to grow in number and that they’re getting closer. He ignores them, thinking that whatever is happening it doesn’t have anything to do with them.

“Hey!” a man from the newly gathered crowd screams “Hey, you two kids!”

Beerus decides he will not turn around because surely, they can’t be the only two kids here.

“You talking to us?!” Champa shouts back. Beerus face palms internally.

“Yeah!” a man exclaims, as he and the crowd get closer, none of them with friendly expressions “You’re the two brats that robbed our caravan!” 

The color drains from both Champa and Beerus face.

“Now, that’s bad luck,” the old man snickers beside them.

And then everything goes to shit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, thats the first chapter, this all start bc the first line popped into my mind and, looking for a story for it, Beerus popped into my mind too.
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading, I hope you liked it! Every comment is appreciated! <3


	2. Chapter 2

Beerus dreams of himself floating in a room. It’s completely dark inside this room and though he cannot see it, he knows its walls extend for miles, that its ceiling hangs higher than the stars and that there isn’t any door or window.

Still he doesn’t feel trapped, he simply lets himself float effortlessly in the middle of the dark.

Eventually something happens. He hears the sound of dripping water, a single drop falling slowly somewhere and since this is a dream, he can clearly listen to it hitting the floor and splashing around in smaller drops. The sound is constant, rhythmic like the leaks in his cave in the rainy season.

He follows the sound, trying to increase his ki and fly towards it but his attempt fails, and he swims through the air that feels thick and heavy in every stroke.

In the distance he can see a small, insignificant gleam of light that comes from up the ceiling and then vanishes at the bottom. It’s the drop of water, shining and beckoning him to come.

When he arrives, the sound of the water hitting the floor is thunderous, almost unbearable: what looked like a minuscule drop in the distance becomes enormous at close. The drops that fall are the size of the moon and the light that comes from them is blinding. But this is a dream, so he can look at them without his eyes hurting.

He looks at the floor and is like looking at the bottom of the ocean. The only visible thing is a puddle of shining water, it must be gigantic like the drops, but up here it looks small and miserable: insignificant.

He brings his gaze up and looks for the spot from where the water is leaking. This time he can fly towards it and once he arrives he sees the fissure from where the water is coming from. The cracks on the dark ceiling converge in a spot as small as an ant and the water gathers then for a very long time until it finally becomes too heavy and falls.

Beerus touches one of the cracks and follows it with his finger until the small leaking and then, almost by accident, his sharp fingernail digs into it.

It breaks.

The ceiling grumbles in protest at his intrusion and it trembles, the cracks become bigger and the water comes in a faster rate.

Still, he’s not afraid. The ceiling finally gives a way and gallons of water fall onto him, drowning him.

He sees bubbles of air escaping his mouth as he attempts to breathe and he sees his own arms furiously fighting to swim and then slowly giving up.

And he knows he doesn’t give up because he deems it hopeless, but because when the water stops falling and everything clears out, he sees the stars, the galaxy, the universe shining close but unreachable at the other side of the surface, beckoning him to come too.

The sight would take his breath away if the water hadn’t done that already.

* * *

Beerus wakes up at the feeling of freezing water falling on his face, an annoying drop hitting him directly on the nose.

He feels dazed and strangely heavy, the fuzzy memories of whatever he dreamt vanishing before his eyes as his surroundings take color and shape.

He’s in a prison of sorts, he guesses, if the bare dark walls and the door with a tiny grilled window is anything to go by.

He’s sitting in a corner of the small room, his head resting against the wall, a leaking exactly on top of him. Everything spins when he tries to get up, his head is throbbing with pain and when he sweeps a hand through it he finds still fresh blood on his nape.

Memories of what happened in the City come to him in broken images and fragmented voices. There were the people of the caravan they robbed, there were screams and threats and a fight and he and Champa were wining until they weren’t.

More people showed up and then…well, surely something or someone hit him in the head.

He looks around the room that has stopped spinning now that he’s on his feet and leaning on the wall, and dread engulfs him when he realizes that he’s alone.

He tries to remember what happened to Champa but all his brain gives him are pieces and bits of a bigger scene that he can’t recall.

He curses under his breath and walks in wobbly steps towards the door. The window is a little too tall for him to reach, he has to step on his toes to have a glimpse; outside there only seems to be a long hallway and he can’t see where it ends, though he notices a few doors scattered across it. He guesses maybe Champa is in one of them and he’s tempted to call for him.

But the pain and the blood in his head call for cautiousness so he decides against this idea and comes back to his spot in the corner.

He sits down again, the world revolving around, and rests his head against the wall, but water falls on his nose again so he crawls away from there.

He feels he probably shouldn’t fall sleep now, but the idea of taking a nap is extremely alluring and his eyelids close despite his unwillingness.

Eventually reality vanishes, and he dreams.

* * *

The next time he wakes up his head is still hurting but he isn’t dizzy anymore. He stays where he is, sitting in the dark wondering what he’s going to do now. He knows he could easily blow up the door or a wall and get out, but his captors should know that too so there must be some kind of trap if he tries it. Also, he doesn’t know where Champa is, or if he’s even alive, and he refuses to make a move without that knowledge.

 He supposes that the only thing he can do is to wait and see if someone shows up. 

There’s no way to know the time of day, there are no windows and the lamp in the ceiling stays perpetually lit. Outside the door nothing happens, like guards passing by and shifting turns, nothing that would convey the pass of time. No one even brings him food or water.

He stays on the floor, hugging his bony knees to his chest, uncomfortably familiar with the loneliness of the cell and it’s humid, cold environment. He thinks of Champa.

After an undefined amount of time, which he spends staring at the void, someone finally comes to him.

A woman opens the door, comes in, and then closes the door again. He stares at her with caution, analyzing her every move. She’s tall for a woman of their species, maybe even for a man, with a muscular build that conveys her as a fighter.

She steps with confidence into the cell, carrying a small tray with food and water. His mouth waters at the sight, but Beerus doesn’t move, he simply follows her with his gaze, wary of her actions.

She smiles, both like she’s trying to reassure him and like she finds his attitude funny. He frowns.

“Hi,” she says, sitting cross-legged in front of him and putting the tray between them “how are you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. The friendly approach she’s using isn’t what he was expecting and it puts him on edge. In the other hand he is hungry as hell.

“Fine,” he mutters.

“How’s your head?”

“It hurts…” he describes “but it’s not bad.”

“That’s good!” She exclaims “You hit your head pretty hard, we thought you weren’t gonna wake up.”

He wonders who exactly are “we” and would like to know how exactly he got hurt because he doesn’t remember clearly, but she doesn’t say more.

“You’re not gonna eat?” She asks.

“What if it’s poisoned?” he says, thought he still reaches for the tray.

She laughs.

“Of course it isn’t poisoned,” she assures “if we wanted you death we would’ve let the caravan finish the job, don’t you think?”

He says nothing at that, choosing to meditate her words in silence as he eats. Hearing her say that raises more questions than he already had but all of them drown the moment he taste the food.

It’s good, it’s really, really good, he doesn’t remember the last time he ate something so good, he and Champa know just the basic about cooking and they don’t usually have species, not even salt, to add to what they do but this, this tastes glorious. He represses a moan when he get his first mouthful of the simple yet rich meat stew, and tries to eat in a way that doesn’t show how much he likes it, but the glint of amusement on her eyes tells him he fails.

“What’s your name?” She asks once he’s done eating.

“Beerus,” he answers, not seeing any case on resisting the interrogatory and still too fascinated with the taste of the food to care: if they gave him something so good they can’t mean any harm, can they?

“Ok, Beerus, my name is Ruum,” she says in return “but let’s skip the pleasantries, I don’t think you’re up to that. I have an offer for you.”

He just stares at her. She stares right back, like she is waiting for him to do or say something at that.

“Anyway…” Ruum continues, somehow disappoint at his lack of reaction “we and my pals just happened to be passing by when we saw you getting your ass kicked by those merchants—”

“We were winning,” Beerus interrupts, because he still remembers that clear enough.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t look like that from our side. But, you know why we decided to help you?”

“Pity?” He suggests.

Ruum laughs again.

“Well, there was some of that, but also because you were doing pretty well, even though you were outnumbered and obviously no one has ever train you. You have potential kid, and we could use someone with your spirit.”

“And who are ‘we’?” Beerus asks.

“Oh, we’re just a band of mercenaries, earning the daily bread, you know, not much different from stealing.”

He says nothing at that, once again disappointing her with his stoicism.

“What do you think? We would train you so a bunch of weaklings wouldn’t kick your ass again, and you would get paid of course, once you start working with us.”

Beerus meditates in silence for a moment. Everything seems a little too good to be true but he doesn’t find anything in her speech or mannerism that would indicate she’s lying.

“I have a question,” he says after a while.

“Shot.”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Your brother? You mean the kid that was with you?” She says, like it isn’t obvious who he’s referring to “Don’t worry, he’s fine, you can go see him once you answer my question.”

He sharps his eyes at that.

“I can’t give you an answer,” he says slowly “if I don’t talk with my brother first.”

“Why not?” Ruum says.

“I don’t know, why can’t I see him if I don’t answer?”

She smiles.

“You got a smart mouth you know? It may bring you trouble someday.” She puts her hand on her knees and looks at the floor, like she’s thinking really hard on something. Then she gets up in a jump “C’mon,” she says “we’ll see your brother.”

He gets up immediately and follows her out of the door and into the hallway. She guides him to another door and, while she’s putting the key to open it, she says:

“You know, he said the exact same thing.”

“What?”

“That he needed to see you to give me an answer.”

Ruum opens the door and lets Beerus in. Champa is sitting in the floor, laying against the wall right in front of the door; when he hears them coming he rises his eyes and gets up in a jump when he sees his brother.

“Beerus!” He exclaims, going to his encounter “I thought you were dead!”

“Why would you think that?” Beerus answers him, without revealing that he was also preoccupied with the idea of his brother dying. But if anything Champa looks in better shape than him with only some bruises and cuts to show of the battle.   

“Because you almost die!” Champa screams at him “Some idiot hit you with a rock in the head and you just passed out! I thought you were done for!”

“Like something like that could hurt me.”

“Uggh! Well if you’re being your usual, arrogant self then you’re okay,” Champa complains and turns his face to the side.

“Well, now that you have seen and talked to each other,” Ruum says loudly to interrupt their ‘conversation’ “can you tell me if you’re gonna accept my generous offer?”

They look at her and then they exchanged a look. They look at her again.

“We accept.” They say at the same time.

She laughs.

“God, you were just playing me around. C’mon, let’s get a doctor to look at your injuries and get you introduce to the rest of the gang!”

* * *

“There are many ways to achieve wisdom,” the man says “some more painful or noble than others.”

Beerus listens to him in confused but almost reverent silence. He cannot see who is the one speaking to him, he can only listen to his voice that echoes across the indeterminate space in which they reside. He can only listen to the man’s voice that is somehow bored and somehow amused: the juxtaposition doesn’t face him.

He can only listen to him speak like what he’s saying is some sort of joke and not a vital piece of information that Beerus needs to know.

Why he needs to know this, however, eludes him.

“One may achieve wisdom in many ways, through many different experiences, as a result of choices that were taken or discard.”

The man makes a pause and Beerus looks at his face that towers over him like the shadow of a mountain. The features of the man are hidden behind the blinding light that surrounds him and is impossible to know what the expression on his face is as he says this, but Beerus has the impression that he’s smiling, laughing at his expense. Surprisingly enough the idea doesn’t bother him, he feels like it’s appropriate for this man to laugh at him.

“But the question you must ask yourself is not how to achieve wisdom,” the man continuous after a while, his voice lighter “but rather: what is wisdom good for?”

Nothing, Beerus is tempted to say, though he doesn’t know why.

The smile he can’t see on the man’s face gets bigger.

“Quite the wise answer.”

* * *

Beerus wakes with a shout dancing on his lips, the echo of a word or a sentence slipping through his mouth to silence of the night. He sits up on the bed in an instant and he breathes heavily in the middle of the dark bedroom, looking around him in a wary manner, expecting to find…something.

When he realizes he doesn’t really know what he’s looking for or what is even what he pretended to shout when he woke up, he lets himself fall on the bed again and stares at the ceiling feeling incredibly stupid.

He dreams a lot, has always dream a lot, but most of the time he doesn’t remember what those dreams are about and most of them are pleasant or irrelevant. He rarely has nightmares, or uneasy dreams.

There been a few times, of course, when he wakes up in some kind of daze, like he’s clinging to the oneiric realm, holding to the dream that slowly disappears from his mind.

He can’t think of the last time that he had something akin to a nightmare.

He stays awake for a while, it takes a lot of time for his heart to stop racing, for his mind to settle into calmer thoughts. At the other side of the room, Champa is sleeping soundly on his own bed and Beerus has the idea, stupid and childlike, of going to him.

It’s been forever since the last time they sleep in the same bed, now that they don’t need the other to gather warm and stay comfortable the habit that last until their late childhood it’s nothing but a memory of a more difficult time.

But the thought stays with him for a while, urging him to go at his brother’s side and find the sleep that eludes him.

He doesn’t do it, of course, he simply shuts is eyes tight and commands his body to fall sleep again.

It takes a while, but eventually slumber finds him again.

He’s unaware that minutes away from that, Champa wakes up gasping for air too.

* * *

Autumn tears slowly away the red of the leaves, dyes them with a hazy pink that blends into the sky and finally, mere weeks before winter lets the tree bares, it steals any color and replaces it with white.

Beerus watches in silence the pure white of the trees, sitting with his back leaning against a rock over a salient.

Since the mercenary group took them in life has been easier, in a way. They don’t have to live one day at a time anymore, worries about their basics needs are a thing of the past. But in other ways life is also more complicated.

Beerus remembers, with strange fondness, how simple things seemed to be back then.

Both he and Champa used to be nothing but part of the background here, in this forest, in these plains. They used to blend into the environment with ease, their presence incidental and irrelevant, like the animals that scatter between the trees.

Now, he reflects somehow despond, he feels like a stranger here. And if the relationship with his brother has always been rocky, now they seem to drift farther and farther away from each other as the winter comes.

Yesterday the mercenary group was hired to serve as private security for some big shot from a nearby city. Ruum was in charge of the operation and was to be accompanied with five more members; she choose four older members and Champa.

Until now, all the work they have been assigned they have always do it together. Both of them found strange the decision to separate them now but they stayed silent about it. Still, Beerus found himself disappointed with Ruum’s election and asked her why Champa and not him.

Ruum simply said that it was a matter of strategy and refused to elaborate. In a sour mood after the encounter, Beerus vented to his brother, saying how inappropriate election he was when Beerus was stronger and more capable. Of course Champa didn’t let it slide and they got into an argument that, hasn’t not been for some other member of the group would have end up in an all-out battle.

 So, today in the morning, Champa left with the rest of them and Beerus stayed.

With nothing better to do at the moment Beerus went to the forest and instinctively end up in the same mountain he and his brother used to frequent what seems forever ago.

There hasn’t been a day, as long as he can remember, in which them were so far apart. In every memory he holds dear or despises, his brother is there.

After their argument yesterday he was left with a bitter taste in his mouth. It didn’t feel like their usual fights and maybe it is, he thinks, because they didn’t hit each other after that.

He feels restless and perhaps that’s why his body took him to this place, like Champa would be here waiting for him to beat the shit out of each other.

But he finds no solace here, instead he finds himself feeling out of place, so much that he decides to take off and fly to somewhere else, to a place that doesn’t reproach his presence.

He flies for a long time, one of the multiple advantages of being part of the mercenary group is that they are constantly trained. Beerus doesn’t know if their mother taught them how to fly and to make ki blasts, or if all of it just came naturally to them. In any case, their way of doing those things had always been inefficient; when they flew they used to get tired quickly and it has never been a secret that most of the time their ki attacks held little control.

Now, they have been taught how to use their energy more efficiently and flying is as easy as breathing, but their attacks can still get out of proportion if they don’t pay enough attention.

After a while and like his body has will of its own, once again Beerus finds himself dragged to another familiar place. He recognizes the rock formation in which their cave used to be and without a second thought he lands.

He looks at the well-hidden entrance of the cave, thinking that it may be dangerous to approach further, who knows what kind of animal could’ve make it its home. Still he decides to go in, called into the entrails of the earth by something more than memories.

He’s taller and wider now than he was a few years ago, now a teen and not a child, but he still manages his way through the narrow passage. He thinks, absently, that Champa would have more problems than him, his brother retains fat easier than Beerus and now that he’s being well fed the difference in how their body distributes the nourishment is obvious.

His thoughts about whether Champa would get stuck or not are interrupted abruptly when, about half of the way, his nose catches the smell of meat being cooked. He stops for a moment, considering the possibility of the walls retaining the smell of their meals; he also considers turning back.

At the end he decides to go forward or rather his body decides so.

He’s only half surprise when he gets to the big chamber and sees a figure clad in a heavy cloak besides a fire, cooking a piece of meat. The image is familiar, of course, and he can see himself and Champa sitting along the bonfire, waiting for the food to be ready with empty stomachs and tired bodies.

The figure doesn’t seem to notice him until he gives a few tempting steps forward, his shoes echoing in the walls. The person glances at him and Beerus can only see their nose and their eyes, shimmering in the light of the fire.

“Ah, a visitor.” The figure talks with a sweet, feminine voice “Come on in, please, feel at home.”

He certainly does feel at home. He approaches the woman, deeming her inoffensive.

“Take a seat, please,” she says, apparently happy for having him over.

He does as she says and sits by her side, a good distance between of them.

“It’s rare to see anyone come these ways,” she says, removing the cloak from her head “what brings such a young man to these lands?”

Beerus looks at her. She’s older than her voice suggested and he can see life hadn’t treat her well: one of her ears was cut in half, probably years ago and in a violent manner if the irregular form of it cicatrized is anything to go by; she’s missing a one of her upper fangs and the wrinkles around her deep eyes talk of too many things seen.

“I used to live here,” Beerus says to her question, casting his eyes to the meat at the fire.

“It’s a good place to live,” the woman says, nodding “thought perhaps a little lonely.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

“Ah, good, good,” she nods again “it really would be a shame to live here by oneself.”

“Do you live here alone?”

“Me?” she smiles a mischievous smile, like she knows a secret she won’t tell him “when you get to my age you’re never alone, young man.”

She doesn’t elaborate and Beerus doesn’t ask her to.

“But you, don’t tell me you were planning to come live here again, and on your own that’s it.” She stirs the fire and turns the meat.

He shakes his head no.

“I was just…passing by.”

“One is never just passing by, especially if the places your body takes you are from the past,” the woman says with utter conviction.

He frowns at that, feeling like she just caught him in some mischief.

“Then why I came here?” He demands.

“Who knows,” she says shrugging “maybe fate wanted us to meet here, today.”

He says nothing.

“Do you believe in fate, young man?”

“I don’t think about fate,” he answers “so I guess I don’t.”

She clicks her tongue and she shakes her head in disappointment.

“That’s the problem of the young people,” she scolds him “they don’t think. You see yourself being pull by the strings of destiny and you don’t THINK about it.”

“If destiny is real,” he says “why would it matter if I think about it or not?”

The woman laughs and while her voice is coated with the lightness of a young heart, her raspy laughter makes him think of a witch in a hut, luring him to make him part of her potions.

“Quite the wise answer, young man.”

Her words make something ring inside his head, like he’s having a deja-vu but not all since there’s no previous experience to compare it to. Still, it literally rings in his head, making him momentarily dizzy, like the sky may fall on top of his head and drown him.

“But wise answers,” she continues, without noticing his sudden trepidation “are not good for much.”

“What do you mean?” he forces himself to say, and as he does so the world comes into focus again and the sensation of vertigo disappears.

“I mean, do you understand what you just say?” she waits for him to say something but he stays silent “That’s what I mean, young man,” she accuses with a finger “you don’t think.”

“I…” he has a retort ready on his mouth but he ends choking with it, unable to make it come “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” says the woman calmly “few people are lucky, or unlucky enough, to do so.”

“Do you understand?” he asks with a little challenge.

She laughs again.

“Understanding is not for us,” the woman says, turning the meat over again “understanding is for the Gods alone.”

The Gods. There are a few temples in the City, all dedicate to the same group of deities. Beerus knows of no gods to pray to, has never known. The short time their mother was with them religion and faith were hardly a theme of interest and when he end up alone with Champa, they had more to worry about than deities.

The mercenaries, however, all of them have a certain degree of faith. They carry images of their gods as charms to cast away harm and before the difficult jobs they pray for their safety. Ruum uses a necklaces with runes carved into it, says it’s prayer for success.

He and Champa, they care as much for the gods as they did before. As far as he can tell, the gods aren’t interested in their lives either.

“Would you care to share a meal with me?” the woman says after a while.

“Thank you,” is all Beerus says as he accepts a piece of meat.

It tastes way better than all he and Champa ever cooked here, he notes.

He stays with her until late at night. They eat and they talk. The woman tells him the story of her life that was, like he suspected, not easy and in exchange he tells her his story too. She listens attentively and offers witty comments here and dare, he laughs at her sharp tongue and has, overall, a good time.

When the temperature has obviously drop down, he guesses is moment to make his way back. He says so.

“I don’t think is time for you to go yet,” she says “you still don’t know why you came here.”

He stares at her, thinking that no, he doesn’t, but...

“Maybe I don’t need to know,” he says “maybe I was just passing by.”

The woman smiles.

“I think,” she says slowly “you may be one of the lucky, or unlucky enough, to understand, after all.”

He laughs.

“I thought I didn’t think.”

“Understanding and thinking are different things, young man,” she assures him “one is more about how things are and the other about how we believe things are. One is for the Gods, and the other for us mortals.”

“If understanding is for the gods, then how come there a few who understand.”

“Ah,” the woman sighs “because the Gods made us to their image.”

“Or we made the gods to ours?

It’s her turn to laugh.

“Who knows, young man, who knows. Feel free to come by anytime you like, if you decide you need to know why you came here today.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. It’s been a lovely evening, thank you.”

Beerus says goodbye and flies to the base. He doesn’t return.

* * *

“Something’s up,” is Champa’s greeting when he comes back a few days later.

Beerus is laying on his bed, a book obscuring his view. He doesn’t put it down or rises to meet his brother.

“Yeah?” he mumbles, uninterested.

“Yeah,” Champa repeats.

Beerus can hear him fumble around the bedroom for a while. He is expecting the other to keep talking, to explain what he means or scream at him for not paying him any mind, but the room stays eerie silent.

Eventually Beerus puts down the book and sits up. He finds his brother sitting on his own bed, his small backpack open spewing the few clothes he took on the trip, looking at the floor with far away eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Beerus asks.

He had imagine that when his brother came back from the job they would greet each other with a fist, pick up their discussion where they left it. Beerus was up to it, even if as the days passed his feelings cooled down.

Champa doesn’t seem up to it.

“Well…” Champa starts, licking his lips in what Beerus recognizes as nervousness “I overheard something.”

“What?” Beerus asks him, slightly on edge for his brother attitude.

It’s been a while since the last time he saw the other so disturbed about something, so at lost.

“We shouldn’t speak here,” Champa says after a while, getting up in an instant and turning his back to Beerus, “I need to unpack.”

There’s barely anything to unpack and Champa isn’t exactly the organized type. Definitely something is up, Beerus can see and although he would to like to inquire about whatever Champa overheard, he decides to pay heed to his words and trusts his judgment.

It must be something really important for them to not be able to speak it here, in this place that has become his home.

“I’ll be at the training ground,” Beerus says after a while as an invitation.

“Mmm,” Champa nods.

* * *

The training ground is simply a big fenced terrain a few miles away from the base. There’s usually only a few people there, taking care of the place; they recognize Beerus on the entrance at let him in.

Some people is there training too, they greet him casually and invite him to spar with them. Beerus accepts to pass the time.

He has to be careful while he spars with them. They’re older than him, more experienced with a wider set of skills and always a trick under their sleeve. Still, the difference in strength in quiet obvious.

While he and Champa lived alone in never occurred to them that their power wasn’t ordinary. They knew they lacked control and focus and thought maybe that’s why they could blow up mountains and kill the biggest animals around, because they didn’t know how to moderate their strength and being that they never got into a fight with another person intentionally, they rarely got the chance to compare themselves to rest of their species.

Since the mercenaries took them in it has been evident that their power is the exception rather than the rule among their race. Maybe, Beerus would reflect at some point after acquiring this knowledge, that’s the reason their mother was an outcast.

In any case, Ruum had explained to them, their strength meant that they could be useful to the group, that they were worth investing on so for them the power had been a blessing instead of a curse.

Beerus loses his sparring matches while he waits for Champa. No matter how strong he is, it means nothing without proper technique: is a lesson he will remember for a long time.

Champa doesn’t appear until a few hours after Beerus arrived and the only people in the ground at this point are them, the guards, and a couple sparring far away from them.

Beerus is tired from his previous exercise but the first thing his brother does upon arrival is to ask him to fight. He does, if only because it’s obvious that Champa doesn’t really want to spar at the moment. Beerus can read him well and notices he’s oddly nervous and on edge, constantly looking around like someone or something might jump on him at any moment.

Champa, he knows, is not the cautious, paranoid type so Beerus gets to two possible explanations: something terrible happened on his trip or something is up. Maybe a little of both.

They fight for a while, none of them giving their all, Beerus is too tired and Champa is too busy looking over his shoulder every two minutes. It takes Champa a painful kick in the jaw to get his head on the fight but even after that, he still seems anywhere else but here.

So Beerus loudly declares he’s tired and they stop.

They go to sit on top of some rocks near the fence, far away from the entrance and the spare buildings, showers and a watching posts, around the ground. They are exposed to anyone’s eyes but are out of earshot from everyone present.

“What did you hear?” Beerus asks the moment they sit, not wanting to waste more time that they already have.

Champa sweeps his head with a hand, crushing his ears and then letting them go back up like elastic. He sighs deeply, the deepest sigh he has given in years. It doesn’t sound good.  

“Well, apparently there was a reason for them taking me on this mission and not you.” Champa says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I would presume so,” Beerus says.

“And, there was a reason for them just taking one of us, too.”

Beerus considers this for a moment.

“How so?” He asks after a brief pause.

Champa shakes his head, like trying to accommodate his thoughts with that.

“On our way back,” Champa starts to tell “we made camp and I went to bed early but I didn’t really fall sleep and, well, I overheard Wysky and Quila saying something…weird.”

“Weird how?” Beerus pressures, uncaring of the details and wanting the other to spew the news already.

“I didn’t hear them that well but, they were saying a lot of stuff, they said your name and said that it was good that you didn’t come with us.”

“Well, they don’t like me, they get along better with you,” Beerus rationalizes, he sees nothing weird about that.

“I mean, yeah, but, here’s where things get weird!” Champa exclaims, thought he still keeps his voice considerably low “they said they wished Ruum and the rest of the upper ranks would do something about us soon.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! But they said, that they were taking too much time to decide what to do, like…”

“Do you think they will throw us out?” Beerus guesses from his brother’s barely understandable story.

“Maybe,” Champa shrugs, but he still seems a little too freak out for it to be that simple “honestly, I don’t even know, but what worries me is that they said that it was good we were finally given separate jobs, they said ‘it would be a problem to catch them together’”

“What? Catching us how? I don’t—“

“And then!” Champa interrupts in a dramatic tone “Ruum came and told them to shut up, she asked them what they would do if I wasn’t sleeping.”

“That…” Beerus starts slowly “…certainly, doesn’t sound good.”

Champa nods energetically.

“Did something happened while I was gone?”

“No,” Beerus denies “but I wasn’t in the base half the time so I couldn’t tell.”

“Well,” Champa says as he gets up “whatever they meant, I think we should keep an eye open and pretend we don’t know shit.”

“I agree.”

They go to entrance to let the guards know they’re going and then they take off, heading back _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is the second chapter, how i said this is super non canonical so, welp xD 
> 
> thanks for reading, every comment is appreciate! <3


	3. Chapter 3

 

Their world used to be very small. When they lived on their own the world was reduced to the plains, forests and mountains they frequented, to their cave and occasionally the world would extend its horizons to reach the City. What laid beyond that was unknown and unimportant.

They lived, they would realize later, in what people called The Barrens. It wasn’t barren of course, but the wildlife grew big and numerous there and it was dangerous to approach the big extension of land that had no place to rest.

Looking at the map on the table, Beerus could point plenty of places to catch a break if one saw himself in need to. There’s the pond southwest of the forest that’s filled with small edible fishes; there are the rock formations at north that offer lots of caves to spend the night; there the ruins of some forgotten town facing east, full of potential havens and relatively near to a good water source.

Obviously these places don’t cut it for most people and Beerus doesn’t think it has anything to do with their accessibility.

The Barrens, people call it and Beerus is slightly disgusted as he looks at the name written over the map, because the name implies that there’s nothing there and he knows the place is full with…everything.

At the same time, however, he understands why the people of the City would call it that. There’s nothing of value for them there, nothing that matters to them, like the animals and the trees and the rocks and the story of an abandoned town, or an outcast woman and her children.

It disgusts him, in a way, that none of the people of the City, that none of the mercenaries here or even the merchants that have to traverse such lands can only see it as barren, as devoid of meaning and value.

But his world is bigger now, and he understands if only a little why is that.

“Any questions?” Ruum asks.

There’s more people in the room, all the eyes carefully watching the map, examining the points marked on it with colored pebbles. Point Red and point Blue are deep into the forest, close to each other; point Yellow is a few miles north of them and point Green is even norther than that, crossing the border.

Borders, another thing Beerus finds disgusting.

“Ok,” Ruum says, when the silence goes on “if no one has any questions, then that concludes the briefing. Remember, we can’t be catch going in a group so we’ll be leaving in groups of two or three and we’ll meet in a three days in point Red or Blue, accordingly.”

“Yes ma’am!” All of the present say, except from Beerus.

He’s still attentively observing the map, even when people start leaving the room he stays where he is. He watches the pebbles, their colors that jump to view against the worn out clothe of the map and wonders how much time it would take to him and his brother to go from one to the other.

“Hey,” Ruum calls at the other side of the table, they’re the only ones remaining in the room “is something the matter?”

“No,” Beerus answers right away, though he doesn’t rise his eyes “I was just wondering…”

“Do you have any questions about the mission?” Ruum asks in an understanding tone “I mean, is the biggest one you’ve ever been assign yet so...”

“It’s…it’s not that,” Beerus decides to say.

He has questions, lots of them actually but none of them are the kind that Ruum would like to hear. The mission and his role in it are clear, he knows what he will have to do but what he doesn’t know at all is why.

It never occurred to him to question the existence of the mercenary group. He had thought, when they first took them in, that they were just another part of that world which horizons seemed suddenly unreachable. The mercenaries, just like the merchants and the townsfolk, just like the City and just like The Barrens, they were just another smudge of painting over the vast canvas of the world.

It was, just like everything else, merely a thing that was.

Now he realizes things aren’t that simple. It became obvious as time passed that there was something more at play here; he understood the missions about protecting people, he understood the missions about vengeance, he understood the missions of transport even, but the ones about mare assassination, the ones that like this one look like a military operation, not so much.

He would like to ask Ruum if she understands it. She probably does, he muses, because even he with the rushed, second class education he got from the mercenaries can clearly see that something is up. 

Beerus doesn’t know enough about how things are outside the borders to guess, but Ruum surely does.

Still, if something he learned early on here was that he isn’t supposed to ask such questions. He’s just a tool that once paid enough, will do as his master says.

“You’ve been weird since your brother got back from that one mission,” Ruum says, leaning on the table “Something happened right?”

“Something?” Beerus asks, finally lifting his gaze.

It’s been a few months since Champa’s first mission without him and so far nothing has happened. They have send them on different missions, however, having one stay and the other go, for days and weeks sometimes.

“You guys don’t bicker all the time anymore and you’ve been training a lot together.”

“That sounds like improvement to me.” He deflects.

Ruum laughs.

“Well of course, but why? Being away from your brother for a few days got you clingy?” She says with tease.

“Perhaps.” Beerus concedes and enjoys seeing her smile go away though he doesn’t know what it means, “We’ve live together all of our life, there hasn’t been a moment in which we were apart, until now. I guess both of us resented it.”

She stays silent for a moment and after a while she circles the table and stands right next to him. He’s taller than he was when he first met her, but she still towers over him; she puts a hand on his shoulder and he tries to don’t flinch at the touch that is sweet and lovely in a way, but strange in other.

“You know, is good you and Champa are getting along better,” she starts “but I want you to understand something: in this line of work is better to don’t get too attached to anyone.”

Beerus turns to find her gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this is a dangerous life, Beerus.”

She leaves it as that and after squishing his shoulder she goes out of the room.

Beerus stays, thinking he misses when the world was smaller.

* * *

"Just, stay on you guard,” Beerus says to Champa that night as he packs.

“I will be,” Champa assures him, nodding “you be careful too, I don’t want to get a message telling me I gotta go save your ass.”

Beerus rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, like I would need your help…” he continues with his task silently for a moment “but seriously, be on your guard not only about the stuff with talked about but…about everything.”

“Everything?”

“I just…I have a bad feeling about this mission.” He admits.

“A bad feeling like you dying or…?”

“A bad feeling like I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

Champa stares silently at him.

“You’re so damn paranoid.”

“I’m not—!”

“But I know what you mean,” Champa interrupts, solemnly. Beerus hates it when he looks solemn “I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you…”

Another moment of eerie silence and then Champa says:

“Wow, you really do love me—”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Beerus hits Champa with his pillow and it inevitably escalates into a pillow fight.

And the rest of the night rolls out with the sound of their laughter.

* * *

They been stationed on point Red for three days, awaiting for the other teams to do their part of the job.

Beerus passes the time counting the leaves on the trees, watching the shadows change as the day advances, listening to the sounds of nature around them. The rest of his team seems more affected from the dullness of the days without nothing to do, playing cards or improvising games with pebbles and branches.

The leader of his team is Wysky, one of the guys Champa heard saying weird stuff. So far, nothing about what Wysky has done or said has seem strange to him, but Beerus still keeps an eye open and watches him discreetly from afar.

He’s hoping that nothing happens, that they just get the mission done and then go back with anything important to report but since the moment Ruum assigned this to him, he has had an unshakable feeling of dread in his gut.

While he lays under a tree, watching the shadows and the leaves and the patches of the pink sky at the other side, he feels like it all may fall on top of his head. It’s a feeling he’s weirdly familiar with and he doesn’t know why.

The sentiment of oncoming doom that has been living inside him for weeks now only got stronger when Ruum announced who was the leader of his team and that she was going to be with the team at point Blue. Granted, when Champa warned him about whatever he had listened, it sounded like Ruum was part of it all, but Beerus trusts her pretty much, he would feel less like the world is ending if she were here.

The world.

Suddenly there’s a green flare in the sky, north of them. It’s the team on point Green, obviously, indicating that there are on the move and that they all shall meet on point Yellow.

Everyone on the camp gets on their feet immediately and there’s a brief moment of chaos where people doesn’t seem to know what to do, until Wysky takes control of the situation and starts barking orders.

He tells them to advance in groups of three towards point Yellow, no flying and no any type of energy release until they get there. He calls Beerus and another guy to come with him.

Beerus follows his orders without question, thinking that all this will be over soon.

They run through the forest as fast as they can and they get to point Yellow just as the Green and Blue teams are arriving too, their timing impeccable.

Beerus didn’t know, just as everyone else, any in deep details about the mission, he only knew they were to meet at point Yellow and dispose of a group of enemies that would be lure there by the team at Green.

He realizes now that their enemies appear to be members of some sort of military organization, their uniforms all the same shade of khaki, with red strips on the chest that he assumes indicates their rank.

They have weapons too, he notices, and the world gets bigger again.

No one in the City or nearby settlements uses any sort of weapon, they as mercenaries don’t use them either but rather relay on their honed battle skills. These people that find themselves suddenly surrounded don´t look strong enough to hold their own on hand to hand combat.

Their weapons are other story, they’re big and mean looking, there have cracks along them that pulse with blue energy and some of them have an already charged attack, a ball of light at the muzzle of the gun waiting eagerly to be release.

There’s a moment of silence when the enemies realized they’ve been cornered, a moment of quiet panic as they notice they were lured here, an instant in which time stops as everyone assess the situation and decides a course of action.

The moment passes quickly and one of the enemies fires his charged weapon and all hell breaks loose.

It’s harder than what Beerus had anticipate at seeing their apparent weak bodies, which isn’t a bad appreciation at all since once they get hit they usually don’t get up, but they’re agile and fast, they slip easily between their attacks and their weapons are really doing a number on the mercenaries, one well-placed shot can be incapacitating and there are already dead bodies scattered through the ground.

Beerus gets shot in the left shoulder and he finds terribly painful to move that arm. As he dodges a barrage of shots and hears the screams of his companions, he has the idea of flying high into the sky and send his own barrage of ki blasts. He knows he can finish them quickly with his power but he has to think of his companions and there’s no time or proper communication to tell them his plan. He lets go of the thought gritting his teeth, because it could be so easy…

Eventually it all ends as abruptly as it started, the screams and the sound of the shots die down and leave behind them the noisy silence of nature. There are way too many bodies in the ground and most of them are clearly dead. Still, Beerus hears Ruum ordering someone to check out for survivors and someone else to make sure the enemies won’t be getting up.

Beerus walks aimlessly across the battlefield. He got shot multiple times, his clothes were burnt away and his skin is covered in burns too. He wants to do nothing but to fall on his back and sleep for the next few months but in a familiar way his body takes control and makes him walk towards the corpses of their enemies.

He has killed before, of course, when one lives in the wild the just but bloody rules of nature are to be followed with strict discipline. He killed to eat, he killed to defend himself and sometimes he killed by accident.

He still remembers clearly the first time he killed another person. It was the first time he and Champa decided to rob a caravan; they sneaked while the merchants were taking a break and got behind the carriage to take whatever they could but both of them were careless and the merchants noticed. They attacked them with everything they got, uncaring of the fact that they were clearly hungry children and in his panic, Beerus kicked one of them hard enough to snap his neck.

His action had beget a moment of stunned silence that they ended up using to scape, empty handed and injured, and in Beerus’ case quiet perturbed.

The incident shook him but Champa had said, though obviously disturbed too, that he hadn’t had any other option and Beerus took his words at heart, because they didn’t really had a lot of options in life, and between them and me, the choice is clear.

 Death is a fact of life, one of these things that simply are in the world, matter not how big or small it is. And death looks the same in every face, Beerus notices as he observes one of their fallen enemies.

He’s not a believer, he cares not about gods or heaven or holy judgment, but while he looks death in the face, he has the impression that something almost divine should’ve left the body that now lays on the dirt, because life never looks the same but death does, like the body is just a package for something less earthly.

While he’s having this revelation, however, he doesn’t notice the movement behind him. Doesn’t notice the hushed voices or the cautious steps. He simply feels, way too late, a hit on the back of his head.

He falls to ground, face to face with a corpse and he doesn’t understand what is happening, he doesn’t truly, was there an enemy still alive he wonders, as his head throbs and the world gets fuzzy and heavy, thick.

There are voices around him and he thinks they’re calling for him, they should be, but they aren’t. They talk among themselves about things he can’t processes right now.

The last thing he hears is Ruum: I’m sorry, she says.

The last thing he sees are the glassy eyes of the corpse: they got you too? They seem to say.

The last thing in his mind is a question: does death feel like this for you too? He asks the dead.  

The dead doesn’t answer.

* * *

Beerus dreams. He dreams of a castle build around the thick roots and branches of a dead tree. The tree is engraved on an invert pyramid that floats aimlessly around the sky that is the color of sunset and several moons dance around the pyramid and tree.

He dreams of himself floating above it all, watching the creatures he can’t name scatter around the base of the tree, get lost in a forest of green leaves; he watches light’s reflection on a giant lake and gets a glimpse of someone standing by its shore, their arms entwined behind their back, their posture solemn, their mind calm.

Beerus watches this person from the distance and has the sudden, revealing thought that from up here, it’s like watching an ant.

The next sudden, revealing thought is that he’s watching himself.

* * *

He has been hit in the head way too many times to don’t be dead, he muses while he sits up, putting a hand on his nape to inspect the damage.

His memory is clear this time, he remembers everything with alarming accuracy, the fight, the screams, the pain, the betrayal, all of it comes crashing on him like a snow slide and he finds himself buried under it all, barely breathing.

He curses under his breath as he feels the very obvious cut on his head and the tons of crusted blood around it.

After assessing the damage and deeming his future dead unlikely, Beerus looks at his surroundings and realizes he’s not in the forest anymore. In fact he’s in a cave, _the_ cave.

The old woman he met months ago is near him, stirring the fire.

“What happened?” He asks with a dry mouth.

“You almost died,” says the woman, not very interested on him “I brought you here, since this is a good place to live I figured it would be a good one to die, too.”

He stares at her perplexed.

“How…much time I was out?” He says, ignoring her morbid statement.

“A few hours at much. You’re a sturdy one.” Her voice is hard and for some reason she refuses to meet his gaze.

“Is…is something the matter?” Beerus says, she doesn’t seem quite the same person he met.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says.

It obviously is something.

“How did you find me?” He decides to ask then, seeing she doesn’t seem up to talk about whatever is bothering her.

“How could I not find you?” She snorts “The smell of the dead spread across the forest like a plague.”

That doesn’t answer much, but he lets it be. He stays in silence for a while, watching the fire and hugging his knees to his chest, wondering…

“How come they didn’t take you with them?” She says after a moment, still not looking at his direction “you were clearly alive, how come your friends didn’t take you back?”

Beerus blinks slowly.

“They were the ones that hit me,” he says in a quiet voice “I guess they left me for dead…Cowards!” He snarls with disgust “Couldn’t even finish the job. What a pathetic group of mercenaries.”

“Would’ve you preferred that they really killed you?”

“At least that way I wouldn’t have to think about why they tried to kill me, since I would be dead.”

“Fair enough,” the woman whispers “being dead is certainly less troublesome.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Beerus demands. “To take care of me?”

She snorts again.

“I’m no healer, young man.”

“Then why?”

“I guess I couldn’t just let you there to rot, no after we shared such a lovely meal that one time.”

“You don’t seem very happy to have me over, however,” he points.

She sharps her eyes and looks at him with a harden stare.

“Had I know you were part of a miserable group of mercenaries, I wouldn’t have befriend you that day…but I guess our meeting was indeed destiny.”

“What’s so bad about mercenaries?”

“Well, for starters, they try to kill their own.”

Certainly, he concedes.

Hours ago he didn’t feel most of his wounds, the adrenalin running through his veins made him forget for a while, but now that his life is not in immediate danger he _really_ feels them. The wound on his shoulder is especially bothersome.

He gets up slowly, relive that the task results easy enough and announces he will go out for a bit.

“Where are you going like that?” She asks.

“I’m going to look for some herbs, to make something for the burns and the pain,” he answers without turning to see her. “Do you have something to boil water?”

“Of course,” she says and goes fetch a sort of kettle from somewhere deeper in the cave. She offers it to him. “So you’re a healer?”

“No. But I’ve learnt things, both from living here and from the mercenaries.”

She scoffs and entertains him no more.

* * *

He comes back an hour later with a handful of herbs and flowers, and the kettle full of water. The old woman is still stirring the fire, in the same position she was when he left. She looks like a ghost, he thinks, trapped in time.

“How will you do your remedies?” She asks him, as he gets close to the fire.

“I will do a paste with some herbs, and I will make tea with others...”

He throws the petals of the flowers in the water and then puts the kettle near the fire. While the water boils he goes looking around the cave for some rocks, he takes a long kind of flat one and a bulky one. He returns to the fire, sits down, puts the herbs over the flat rock and takes the other one to grind them.

She watches him work in silence, making no comment about how he’s only using his right hand.

The water starts boiling and she uses her cloak to take it away from the fire. She gets up again.

Beerus concentrates on the monotonous task, letting his mind go blank for a moment, trying to don’t think about this hell of a day.

When he’s done, he notices she brought a cup and poured him some of the tea. He thanks her.

He starts rubbing the paste, which is a deep green and smells fresh, across all his wounds. He asks her to help him with the one in his back he can’t reach and she complies without a word. After a while he’s covered in patches of green moisture and he drinks his bitter tea with a faraway gaze.

“What did you do” she asks after a while “for them to try to kill you?”

 Beerus flinches at her question and stares deep into his tea.

“Nothing,” he barks “absolutely nothing.”

She clicks her tongue.

“That’s why I don’t like mercenaries,” she scorns “they have no sense of loyalty.”

“I presume you don’t have a good story with mercenaries.”

“Who has it, young man?”

Not him, at least.

He doesn’t understand. Everything Champa said months ago suddenly makes sense but he still can’t comprehend why they would do this to him did he, did he fail them somehow? Wasn’t he good enough? Did he spoke out of time too many times? Him not getting along with most of the group was too grave? Why?! Why would they take him in, take care of him, feed him and train him and then do this?!

Why would they abandon him like this?

He realizes, way too late, that he’s crying, silently convulsing with his feelings trying to get out.

“It’s better this way,” the old woman says after a while, a defeated acceptance in her voice “now you know what kind of people they really are.”

No, he doesn’t, but at least now he knows he can’t trust them like he thought he could and that is, in a way, some sort of relieve.  

He has better things to worry about, anyway, because if they this did to him they would probably do the same to Champa.

Beerus gets up suddenly, spilling the rest of his tea over the ground. He heads out with haste.

“Where are you going?” she asks, getting up too.

“My brother,” he says, not stopping his advance “he’s with them, if they tried to kill me maybe they will try with him too, I—!

“And what are you going to do, looking like that?” she says with knowing severity “scare them, appearing as a ghost before them? If they didn’t kill you before they surely will do now, you can’t even walk straight.”

He growls at this, knowing her to be right. Still he doesn’t stop.

“And what about your brother? Is he so weak he will die as easily as you nearly did?”

“He’s not weak,” Beerus assures “if they attempt so poorly to kill him like they did with me, he won’t die.”

“Then rest,” she orders “I won’t have you dying in my cave.”

“It was our cave first.” He murmurs and heads back in.

* * *

He dreams the same dream again, of himself watching himself over at the lake. The scenery is peaceful and soothing, the world alien and fascinating and still, the only thing that crosses his mind is how small he looks from up here.

* * *

The next day Beerus wakes up to the smell of soup. The old woman had thrown a blanket over him, apparently, and he has to untangle himself from it before sitting up.

“Did you have nightmares?” She greets him with “you were trashing around and muttering all night.”

“And you didn’t have the grace of waking me up,” he recriminates instead of answering.

“Of course no,” she says, removing the soup at the fire with a wooden spoon “dreams can very well be prophecies, especially the uneasy ones.”

Beerus considers this.

“I didn’t have a nightmare,” he says after a while “but…I don’t really remember what I dreamt of. It wasn’t unpleasant.”

“Well, if you can’t remember it then it doesn’t matter. Come,” she calls “let’s have breakfast.”

He gets near then, his muscles sore and his burnt skin screaming at every move, but he goes silently and without complain. She pours him some soup in a rough wooden bowl and he eats in silence.

The soup it’s good and it takes his mind away for a moment, but not for long enough. Soon, in the silence of the cave, he finds himself thinking about what he’s going to do now.

He has to go back the base and take Champa out of there, that’s clear, but he can’t start to think about how he’s even going to do that. He’s strong, stronger than all of them even, but he’s still clumsy, unexperienced, and this job calls for cautiousness and he doesn’t know if he will be able to keep a cold head during it.

They tried to kill him. They are probably trying to kill his brother while he sits here and drinks his soup like nothing happened yesterday, like the world didn’t kind of ended yesterday.

He puts down the bowl and contemplates getting up and going at this very instant to solve all this mess, but feels strangely weak, if not in body, and decides against it.

He grits his teeth and curses whatever makes him feel like this, makes him feel small and useless and helpless. He hasn’t feel like this a long time and he had thought, back when Ruum came all smiles and sweet promises, talking to him about a generous offer that would change his live, he had thought he would never feel like this again.

But life is full of bittersweet surprises, he discovers quite disgruntled.

“Why don’t you like mercenaries?” He finds himself asking.

“Why do you want to know that?” She says, finishing her own share of soup.

“I just…I’d like to know.”

He doesn’t really know why he asked her this, but it felt like the correct thing to ask. It was better than don’t saying anything and allowing his mind to drown him in his feelings.

“Are you, perhaps, looking for an excuse?” She says, rises her gaze and looks at him with judgmental eyes.

“An excuse?” He repeats, without understanding.

“An excuse to don’t stay here, “she elaborates carefully “to go and do what you must do.”

“I don’t need an excuse for that,” he says with strength “I have enough reasons as it is.”

“That you do,” she concedes “but sometimes having a reason to act, is not motivation enough.”

He clenches his fists at this but finds no retort in his mouth. She stares at him measuring him, like she can see through the carefully blank expression he composes, like she can read his every thought. She probably can, he thinks for some reason.

“I don’t like them,” she starts after a while “because they are arrogant.”

Beerus pauses at this. He wasn’t expecting such a…mundane answer.

“Is that so?” He asks, a little confused.

“Is that no reason enough?” She scoffs “They’re arrogant, they believe themselves above and disregard everything with the excuse of surviving and because of that, they cannot see themselves being used for other’s purposes. They don’t think.”

The world is way bigger than he ever thought and this she says seems to be about that.

He carefully considers her words and thinks about the life he has had since the moment the mercenaries took him in. They made clear since the beginning that taking care of him and Champa was not an act of kindness but rather an inversion, which they expected would pay off greatly. So he knew, though he didn’t really _know_ , that he was something to use. It makes sense, he thinks, it should’ve been clearer than it really was in his head, after all what are mercenaries if not things to be use, he was thinking about that just a few days before when he decided that it wasn’t his place to ask questions.

It probably wouldn’t have change anything, he ponders, asking those questions about why they were taking part on a mission like this, about why there were working outside the border, about why they were facing an army.

Even if Ruum knew and even if she answered him, it wouldn’t have matter. They had a job to be done and they were going to do it, in the name of whoever had paid them for it. And it would’ve matter even less for Beerus that was to be killed too.

He thinks he understands what the old woman says.

He remembers the conversation they had months ago and considers, if ever briefly, their encounter as indeed fated.

“I shall go,” he says, getting up slowly.

“Are you sure?” She questions him, eyeing him carefully, but makes no attempt to stop him “do you even know what you’re going to do?”

“No,” he answers calmly, walking towards the entrance of the cave “but I…”

“You owe me no explanations,” she says, resolved “if you shall go, you shall go.”

He doesn’t mention how last night that didn’t seem to be what she believed. He doesn’t say anything more until he makes it to the entrance of the cave. He turns and looks at her.

She sits near the fire stirring it with a twig, her old black cloak embracing her and in the middle of the big chamber, she looks small. The image is the same, he notices, the same as the first time he met her, as when he woke up yesterday, as he woke up today.

The idea of a ghost comes to him once again, but just as he doesn’t believe in any gods he believes not in the supernatural, and lets the thought go.

“Thank you,” he says slowly and truthfully “for your cares however crude they were, for your food and for your words.”

She laughs heartily.

“Is this a permanent farewell?” she asks “You sound like a man walking to his dead.”

He gives her a half smile.

“Well, with your age and my decisions, who knows if we’ll be alieve to see each other again.”

“True enough,” she nods “and since this may be our last meeting, may I ask to know your name, young man?”

“Beerus,” he says “and yours?”

“Ah, at my age” she sighs “your very name seems to fade away.”

He looks at her but she has nothing to add, so he simply nods and goes.

He doesn’t return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so thats how the third chapter goes, i hope you liked it!
> 
> thanks for reading, every comment will be appreciate! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!

 

Beerus spends a few days in the forest, licking his wounds and thinking about what he’s going to do.

He goes to point Yellow and notices that most of the dead have been left there to rot, but the bodies of the mercenaries are long gone. He feels bitter at this discovering, thinking he was left here too with the hope that he wouldn’t wake up.

He ponders this silently as he walks through the small battlefield: it reeks of dead and treason and questions.

It’s weird, he muses, looking at the half-eaten, half-rotten bodies, that no one had taken the moment to check if he really was dead before leaving him here. The mercenaries may have proven themselves to be the lowest kind, but he knows they’re not stupid and leaving him for dead without checking is the kind of stupidity they wouldn’t commit.

Knowing why they did such a thing, however, won’t help him, so he simply scans the clearing and after spending sometime in the company of the decaying corpses, he leaves. There’s nothing for him here but inquires with no answer.

The first couple of days he stays at the forest he goes towards the lake southwest of it. He takes a long bath there and tends to his wounds that are looking better by the day; he and Champa have always had good endurance and if his experience is anything to go by, they must be pretty hard to kill too.

With that in mind, he stays by the lake with an easy mind.

After that he moves east of the forest and comes out to the ruins of some town. He uses an old, decaying house as a refuge, hoping it won’t fall in top of his head while he sleeps and passes his days planning.

He will have to go the base and infiltrate. The old woman was right, they may had not killed him before, but if they see him now they will make sure to finish the job, so he has to be as cautious as possible.

He draws a rudimentary plane of the base with stick on the ground, thought the drawing is crude and probably no one but him will understand it. He knows the base well enough, once he learned the layout he never got lost, unlike his brother that even today sometimes forgets where certain places are, but he doesn’t know the place that thoroughly.

He has some idea, however, of where the ventilations are and he supposes that’s his best chance of getting in undetected. Still, even if he can get in through there, he has no idea of how to reach Champa’s and his bedroom from there, ot he will even be able to.

Not only that, but he has to worry about the possibility of being seen by the guards. The place is not exactly heavy guarded, but there’s at least two persons keeping an eye on the gates at all times, and if they have prisoners for whatever reason, they will be more on edge. At least, he knows the timing of the shifts since he was posted as a guard a few times, so that’s something to work with.

Even though he tries to reassure himself he can do this, he feels hopeless looking at his makeshift plane.

Beerus thinks about how he may as well just go in and start firing ki blasts like there’s no tomorrow, thinks about how he may have a chance to make his way through force if he doesn’t hold back, but the memory of training sessions in which he lost despite his superior strength haunts him.

Worse yet, the idea of doing that is tempting, but not tempting enough: he knows he can do it, but he’s not so sure if he really could.

He would like to don’t feel like this, to don’t feel like he owes the mercenaries something, to don’t feel uneasy at the idea of their dead, but unfortunately he does feel this way.

So, in light of that, in light of his heart behaving like a wuss, he stares at his bad drawn plane and marks the point in the ceiling where he hopes to get in.

How to get to the ceiling is another part of the plan he needs to work in.

But having a half-baked plan is better than no plan at all, he says to himself and calls it a day.

* * *

It’s been more than a week since he almost die and when he wakes up, stretches and his shoulder doesn’t scream in pain anymore, he decides it’s time to put his plan into action.

He goes to collect some fruits and water to have breakfast and eats them at the edge of a balcony that threatens to fall at any moment. He eats carefully and slowly, trying to don’t let his nervousness get the best of him, and concentrates on his food and on the view of the red colored forest and the crumbling houses.

Once he’s done eaten he gets up, stretches again just to confirm his wounds have healed enough, and takes flight.

Up in the sky Beerus looks down to the town and, almost as a whim, makes a medium sized ball of ki. He throws it at the town and the moment it makes impact it explodes. Debris comes flying in all directions, the smoke rises quickly covering his view, and in the forest birds take off running from the possible threat.

Beerus watches in silence.

When the dust settles the town is no more and in its place now lays a crater. He looks at it and thinks about doing this to the mercenary base, and once again finds the idea tastes bitter in his mouth.

Even when he and Champa lived alone, with no one to pass judgment on his actions and with no one to teach them any kind of morality, they usually avoided destructive behavior. Early on they were aware of how easily they could kill and destroy if they desired to do so, but perhaps because they felt themselves more like a part of nature than something foreign to it, they didn’t.

Beerus contemplates the result of his attack and after some time, gives his back to it and heads for the base.

He will decide later, he resolves, if he can, if he really wants, to do this to the mercenaries. For now, the crater stands as a show of his power and how unwise it would be to make him cross the line he and his brother had drawn so many years ago.

* * *

He had thought on arriving to the base at night, thinking it would be a more appropriate time to try to infiltrate, but at the end had decided against it. At night most of the mercenaries would be at the base, but during the day they would be busy working or training or anywhere else, so in the case an all-out battle broke loss, it would be safer with less people about.

Still, attacking during the day had its disadvantages.

The base was a rectangular building behind the mountains, just a few miles shy of the City. It had only two floors but the terrain it covered was large; it had four main gates in total, one at each side of it and from above one could see three large ventilations.

The easier, most obvious way to reach those would be just to fly there, but it was also the most likely to be noticed for the guards. Beerus hides on a rock formation not far from the base, though far enough to be out of earshot, and thinks.

He’s almost in front of the north gate and he can see clearly how the guards walk from the sides of the building to the door, cross paths, and then go to the other side and stay there for a minute or so before walking again. It takes them around thirty seconds to go from the gate to the side of the building and in this time they give their back to each other.

Beerus thinks those thirty seconds are his best chance at getting in, but there are no more places to hide between his current position and the building, so he would have to get in front of the gate and jump on top of the building, all in the most absolute silence, on those thirty seconds.

He licks his lips and contemplates his options that, honestly, aren’t many. So he watches the guards and decides he will have to make a run for it. He’s fast, after all, and all he hopes is that he is fast enough: They’re at least five hundred meters from here to there.

He watches the guards and the moment they cross paths he sprints. He also has to pray for them to don’t notice him halfway there and like some miserable god is hearing his internal monologue and decides to play a prank, one of the guards stops.

It takes less than a second for the guard to turn, when there’s still a quarter of the way to go, and it takes even less for Beerus to act. He jumps, in his panic of being noticed he simply jumps into the air.

The guard looks at the spot he was in just an instant before and upon seeing nothing, he continues his way. Beerus, in the air, looks in all directions to see if someone noticed him, but his leap was silent enough and he’s not that up in the air so he just rolls with it and impulses himself a little to fall on top of the ceiling.

He controls his landing with some ki and silently steps on the building. He sighs in relieve when no one comes from his head.

He walks to his chosen ventilation and takes off the grating with his bare hands. He simply takes the bars and presses them hard enough to bend them.

Once that’s off, he stares at the empty, dark tunnel that spreads before him, going down to god knows where. He takes a deep breath before carefully entering, trusting that he will be able to find his way.

* * *

Since there are barely any windows in the building and even less open spaces inside, the ventilations ducts are actually quite big; he doesn’t fit at his full height so he has to crawl through the duct but it is also wide enough for him to do so comfortably.

He drags himself as silently as possible, carefully controlling his movements so they won’t cause any kind of echo in the large, metallic pipes. As he advances he encounters turns and divisions and he picks his way merely following his intuition.

Shortly after entering the ducts his intuition doesn’t prove useful. When he reaches a vent from where he can spy inside the building, he ends up in places far away from his destination, though he uses those moments to contemplate carefully where to go the next time he encounters a turn, and to evaluate how many mercenaries are in the building at the moment.

Eventually, when his shoulders and knees already hurt for the constant effort, he comes to a grid from where he can see the long hallway where his and his brother bedroom is, and decides he will have to go out here. The ventilation duct continues but from here he can see that it becomes truly a maze, being that it divides in all the bedrooms in this area, and though he doesn’t know how much it has been since his entering, he doesn’t want to risk getting lost.

He watches the hallway for a few minutes and when no one comes about, he starts bending the bars. He falls from the vent with feather like steps and then makes a sprint for his bedroom, feeling his heart thundering in his chest at having his objective so close and yet still full of uncertainty.

It occurs to him, while he runs and the door of the bedroom shines like a beacon, that is possible for Champa to don’t be there. Maybe he’s out on a mission or training, or enjoying his time off or, and he pushes this idea deep into the back of his head, or maybe he’s dead.

He stops dead on his tracks in front of the door, his hand hovering over knob, full of dread.

All these days in the forest he fed himself the idea that his brother couldn’t, plain and simple, be dead. It made his recovery easier, faster, it helped him to don’t come running blasting the damn doors open screaming bloody murder, but now that he’s here the possibility floats ominously around him.

Because what he’s going to do, he wonders, if he opens the door and Champa is not there, if he opens the door and every vestige of this room being theirs has disappeared, just what he’s going to do…

He thinks of the crater.

He licks his lips and his eyes stay glued at the door and he’s thinking, c’mon Beerus don’t be a coward, c’mon, open the damn door, just…

The door opens. From the other side.

And suddenly any thought of vaporized towns and revenge and pain and loss and being alone, simply go away because there’s Champa at the other side, a dumbfounded expression on his chubby face, his mouth hanging open and his eyes big as plates.

“Bee—!” Champa starts, but Beerus quickly shoves a hand over his mouth and forces him inside the room, closing the door behind them.

Champa tosses around trying to take him off, thought very half-heartily, and Beerus has no problems to drag him to the bed. The only bed in the room he notices.

Once both are sat on the mattress, Beerus takes his index finger to his lips to indicate Champa to be quiet. Champa nods and then Beerus lets go of his mouth.

“What the fuck?!” is the first thing Champa says in hushed screams, looking at him in disbelief. He takes Beerus by the shoulders and shakes him “What he fuck?! I thought you were dead!”

Beerus doesn’t miss the way his brother’s voice falters at the last word, or how Champa’s eyes are slightly wet or the force which with he takes him, holding onto him for dear life like Beerus could just vanish under his touch.

“Well,” Beerus brings himself to say, voice tight “I’m not.”

“But...how?! I— I went to look for you, you know!” Champa continues, his eyes desperate “I asked Ruum why they didn’t bring your body and she said they couldn’t find you! So I went looking for you! I thought, I thought you couldn’t be dead and even if you were you wouldn’t just disappear! Beerus, what the fuck?!”

It takes a lot from Beerus to don’t kind of crumble under the sentiment in Champa’s eyes, or his words that only make him feel worse about what they did to him. Both of them are of short temper, but Champa has always been more easily lost to emotion of any kind. At the moment it’s hard for Beerus to keep it that way.

“I…it isn’t that they couldn’t find me,” Beerus begins slowly, casting his eyes to the mattress because he can’t hold his brother’s gaze “it’s that…Champa, they…they tried to kill me.”

There’s a stunned moment of silence.

“What?” Champa whispers, dangerously stoic.

“Once the battle ended, I walked around the place checking the corpses and when I got distracted, they hit me in the head,” Beerus even turns around to show his brother the still healing wound “I don’t know why or…they just hit me and left me there for dead.”

Champa remains speechless, any trace of his early outburst completely gone from his face. Beerus continues:

“There’s a woman, and old woman who lives in the woods, I met her months ago, but she found me and took me out of there. I didn’t come back until now because I was hurt and I needed to be in good shape to come and I…” he stops, taking a deep breath to control his voice “I thought, godamnit, I thought they were going to try to kill you too!”

“They didn’t,” Champa assures him, his voice quiet, “Ruum even gave me a pep talk about how dangerous is this job,” he laughs, humorlessly “I can’t believe they did this.”

“Me neither,” Beerus concedes “but it all adds up, about what you overheard that one time, about how they needed to separate us, all, all it makes sense now. What I don’t understand is why.” He holds his head, feeling the beginning of a headache.

“I think…maybe we’re a liability,” Champa says, and Beerus is in such distress he doesn’t think about teasing his brother for using ‘complicated’ words.

“What do you mean?”

“After you ‘died’ there was some talk here, honestly I didn’t pay much attention to it but, I heard someone saying how much safer they would feel now. I…I didn’t thought anything of it but…”

“They think we’re a menace?” Beerus butts in “They think we’re dangerous?”

Champa shrugs and after a moment he says, in a dark tone:

“I mean, we are.”

Especially now that they’ve given them a reason to be dangerous, Beerus thinks.

“They haven’t try anything suspicious with you?” Beerus asks instead of following Champa’s dark thread of thought.

“No, no…everything has been quiet since you…yeah.”

“Ok, that’s good but we still have to get out of here,” Beerus says as he gets up, not tolerating the idea of having to stay here any longer.

Champa follows suit.

“How did you even get in here?”

“The ventilations ducts, I guess we’ll be using them to get out too.”

They head for the door, but before Beerus can open it he feels Champa softly holding his wrist, so he turns.

“Hey,” Champa says, awkwardly and lets go of him the moment they’re facing each other “I…I’m glad you’re not dead, you know.” He finishes, looking at the floor.

Beerus’ eyes sting and he feels a lump in is throat. He takes his time looking for an appropriate answer:

“Wow,” he says quietly “you really do love me.”

“Oh! Shut up!” Champa exclaims, playfully hitting him in the arm.

They have to stay a few more minutes before going out, trying to stop their wholeheartedly laughter.

* * *

Champa doesn’t seem to like the idea of getting into the ducts and slink out of the building like they were never there, but he says nothing and follows Beerus into the vents.

Beerus hadn’t thought about how he was going to get out, so he didn’t make any attempt at memorizing the way or at putting some kind of mark to don’t get lost. Champa calls him an idiot for that and Beerus kind of agrees, though he doesn’t say it aloud and choses to try to kick his brother instead.

They find hard to keep quiet as they advance, suddenly they find anything the other does worthy of a snarky remark, and they have to stop a few times to control their laughter.

It’s dangerous but they can’t seem to stop. It’s a good feeling, having the other again, even though they never really lose each other.

After some time, that passes more quickly now that they are together, they finally see light at the end of the tunnel, thought is not the same ventilation from where Beerus got in since this one still has the bars.

This time, Champa is the one that forces the grid open and he offers his hand to help Beerus get out.

The sky is already turning dark. They spend a moment over there, stretching their arms and legs and breathing the fresh air. They’re ready to take off when…

“You’re really hard to kill, you know,” a voice says suddenly behind them.

Both of them turn in alarm, dropping into a fighting position immediately. It’s hard to maintain it when they see Ruum, leaning against the ventilation duct, appearing calm and harmless before them. They know, however, that she’s not harmless, so they stay on their guard.

“Sorry about that,” is all Beerus say, his mouth abruptly dry.

“It’s not your fault,” Ruum reassures him “I mean, I should’ve seen the work through.”

“Is that why you all tried to kill me? It was a job?” He tries to sound indifferent, calm and in control, but he can feel himself trembling so he’s probably doing terrible at it.

“Not exactly,” Ruum continues, all too relaxed: it puts them on edge “it was more like a...business decision.”

It was a fucking murder attempt, it was fucking treason, that’s what it was, he thinks angrily and clenching his teeth.

“Is it because we’re a liability?” Champa says then “Is it because we’re dangerous?”

“Well, it’s more like, Beerus is dangerous,” Ruum answers “he’s too independent, too smart, too strong. He thinks too much and that’s why it surprised me so much when he came back,” she turns to look at Beerus then “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I had to come back” he says, unwavering “for Champa.”

Ruum smiles, and it’s the same easy-going, friendly smile she has always showed them, but now they know it’s a lie.

“You didn’t need to worry about your brother,” she assures him “we weren’t going to kill him, he’s almost as strong as you but he follows the flow more easily. He was safe, as long as he played along.”

Beerus feels his brother getting angry at her words, but Champa abstains of doing something reckless and just tenses.

Ruum incorporates slowly, still trying to show herself tranquil but both of them can feel the change in the air, the change in her intention. Still, they don’t move.

“That’s why it’s a shame,” Ruums sighs “that now we really have to kill both of you.”

She leaps forward and in an instant she’s in front of them. They have little time to react but Champa manages to barely block a punch and Beerus dodges a kick.

Half a second after that, there’s suddenly a crowd on the ceiling. More mercenaries had come to take care of them and all of them start attacking them at the same time. They manage to block and dodge some of the first hits, but they get overwhelmed quickly and are buried under a wave of attacks.

Ruum disappears then or if she’s there they can’t distinguishes her between all the fists and legs that attempt to beat them to death.

Beerus decides it’s been enough and he screams, elevating his ki as much and as fast as he can in an instant. He sends the mercenaries and Champa flying around, but his brother gets his footing quickly and Beerus stops emanating energy for a moment to allow him to come closer.

They stand then back to back at the top of the ceiling that somehow survived Beerus sudden burst of energy. They have bruises everywhere and they’re already bleeding. Champa spits a mouthful of blood at the ground and Beerus cleans his brow with a hand.

Some of the mercenaries are floating around and others stand with them in the ceiling, all of them are looking at the brothers with calculating eyes, like they suddenly remember who they’re dealing with. Beerus can see how they talk to each other in hushed tones.

The mercenaries should’ve took their chance to kill them when they overwhelmed with their numbers and the advantage of surprise, because now that Beerus has stablished distance all of them seem to be remembering _why_ they wanted them dead in first place.

He looks for her but he can’t see Ruum and he thinks, maybe it’s better that way.

One of the mercenaries makes the first valiant effort of attacking them but Champa shots him down in the blink of an eye with a well-placed and powerful ki blast, and whatever desire they had to kill them seem to waver at that.

There’s another who comes and Beerus shots him down just like Champa did, but while he’s doing that he doesn’t notices someone else sneaking at his side to kick him the side of head.

The pain registers first and then comes the realization of what just happened. Beerus goes out spinning and he stops in midair with his head throbbing. He sees that Champa is currently fighting off the one that hit him, Wysky.

He goes flying in the aid of his brother but the mercenaries are inspired by Wysky’s successful attack and someone intercepts Beerus. He gets rid of him quickly but then someone else comes and from a second to other they’re swarming at him and he loses sight of Champa, who surely is having the same problem he does.

Beerus fights fiercely against them, very aware that his life is on the line. He doesn’t hold back like he learnt to do in all his training sessions and the results show, getting rid of them by one with just one well-placed hit, but his lack of restrains is also a disadvantage since he feels himself getting tired quickly and the mercenaries don’t seem to ever stop appearing. He doesn’t know for how much time he will be able to keep up this and the thought fills him with dread because he knows the moment he slows down and gives them an opening they’re going to kill him.

He hears Champa scream in pain as Wysky throws him to the ground and Beerus rushes through a wall of enemies to get at Wysky, but he sees his intention and shots Beerus a barrage of ki blasts. The attacks isn’t strong enough to hurt him badly, but he has to stop to block them and the smoke they leave at impact obscures his sight.

He thought Wysky was going to go for Champa but suddenly the man appears in the middle of the smoke, kicks him in the stomach and then punches him with both of his hands in the back.

Beerus falls down as a meteorite on top of the ceiling and breaks through it with ease. He lands on his face between the rubble and gets up forcefully, bleeding from his brow and his mouth and the rest of his body covered in scraps of varying gravity.

He prepares to fly and pay back Wysky but someone hits him in the back with a ki attack and he falls on his face again. He turns on the ground and shots blindly to his aggressor but the one in question easily deviates it.

It’s Ruum, who comes looming over him with a hard expression on her usually friendly face, ready to strike him down.

Beerus grits his teeth and looks for some snarky remark to throw her way, but his mouth is filled with nothing but the metallic taste of his own blood and the bitterness that all this situation provokes him.

She jumps on top on him and lands with a knee on his stomach. He shrinks at the pain and when he opens his mouth to scream all that comes out are some bloody coughs. She takes him by the collar of his tattered clothes and keeps his head raised.

He’s gasping for air and trembling while she watches him in calculating silence, like she’s deciding how she’s gonna end his life.

“I know you won’t believe me,” she says after a while, her voice rising above the sound of the fight outside “but I really don’t like doing this.”

“Fuck you,” Beerus spits.

 “Yeah, well, I did warn you this was a dangerous job.”

“Being betrayed by your friends wasn’t in the warning though,” he manages through his rasping breath.

She smirks.

“And I also told you that smart tongue of yours was gonna get you in trouble someday. And that day,” she sighs with something similar to sadness “it’s today.”

Ruum rises her other hand and Beerus doesn’t know what she’s gonna do but he knows it’s gonna kill him. He closes his eyes and bares for it, because he’s weak and injured and he can’t breath and for all his near-death experiences this one really feels like it will be it.

But as he closes his eyes the image of the crater he left in the long forgotten town comes to him.

He can’t die here. And he can’t die here not because there’s a brilliant future waiting out there or because there’s someone waiting for him, he doesn’t even think of Champa and the hard time he’s probably having too, he just can’t die here because he _can’t_. 

He’s too strong for that, he has too much power for that, he can erase from the map this base if he wishes so.

And he finds himself wishing so.

He opens his eyes and stops Ruum’s hand in mid-air with his own injured limb. He looks at her with fire in his eyes and she let’s go of his collar to hit him with her other hand. He manages to stop her too and he uses his grip on her as leverage to get up and head-butt her in the chin.

He lets go of her and she falls down on her ass, but gets up in an instant to go after him. Beerus doesn’t let her.

He fires a powerful, unrestrained ki blast at her and at this close range it should be fatal. Still, when the smokes clears out she’s there, a knee on the ground and her arms in front of her forming an X, her skin and clothes burnt. She’s gritting her teeth in pain and she looks ready to pass out.

The only thing that comes to Beerus as he watches her is:

“A dangerous job, indeed.”

She looks like she’s gonna say something but he doesn’t have in him to heed her retorts. He fires another blast, as powerful and uncontrolled as the first. It makes the ground tremble and the walls crumble.

It should be fatal, and when the smoke clears out he finds out it was.

Beerus doesn’t stay to look at her body for long, he knows what dead looks like: always the same, always…lifeless.

He takes a deep breath and then takes off. When he’s out of the building he sees there’s bodies everywhere. Some of them were his work but since he was busy fighting Ruum most of them should be Champa’s doing.

He looks for his brother and finds him in the ground, fighting with a bunch of enemies. He goes at his side and takes out some of the enemies while he’s at it; when he arrives besides his brother he notices how injured Champa is and wonders how bad he should look.

“We should go,” Beerus says, tired.

Champa agrees with a hum.

“You’re not going anywhere,” comes a ragged voice behind them.

They turn at the same time and see Wysky coming at them. He’s badly injured, limping to them and his right arm hanging precariously as he walks. Still, the determination on his face makes clear he won’t go without a fight.

Wysky shots a small but precise beam at them and it hits Beerus on his still healing shoulder. He falls down on his back and gets a glimpse of Champa going for Wysky, but at the same time another beam comes from behind them.

He turns on his belly to look at their new aggressor and finds Quila looking fresh as the morning. She obviously didn’t participate in the whole fight. Beerus curses at her presence.

Both of them are now on the ground, injured and having trouble getting up again. Quila and Wysky get near them.

“You two put the hell of fight,” Wysky says bitterly “but it’s over.”

They say nothing.

“Let’s get rid of this one first,” Quila says charging a ki blast and pointing at Beerus “he’s the dangerous one.”

At that Champa screams, not a battle cry or something similar, it sounds more like he’s throwing a temper tantrum. He gets up in an instant and kicks Wysky out into the sky. Beerus takes the moment to shot his own ki attack at Quila and it hits her dead on in the face.

He gets up and sees Champa breathing heavily and looking rattled up.

“We should go,” he repeats.

Champa nods forcefully.

They take off and fly into the sky, decidedly not turning back. A ki blast passes between them.

They turn and see Quila in the ground, shooting at them with terribly aim and holding her face with his free hand. There’s a lot of blood dripping between her fingers.

Champa shots at her, and he does so carelessly enough for it to blown out half the building on impact. Beerus sees that and follows him without thinking much about it, firing too.

Soon, both of them are indiscriminately shooting at the ground. There are no more enemies in sight, no more immediate danger to their lives, there’s no reason for them to keep it up and yet they can’t seem to stop.

They shot and shot and shot until the building is unrecognizable and their tired bodies plead them to stop.

Beerus has the fleeting thought that there was people out on mission, and wonders what will they think when they come back and find this. Not like it matters to him anyway.

They stay for a while floating there, their breath fluttering and hard; their hearts pounding in their chests and slowly calming down; the sweat sticking to their skin and their blood dripping from their open wounds.

 When the dust settles there isn’t much on their minds, they blankly stare at their handiwork measuring the damage they left. They doubt there’s anyone alive under the wreckage and both of them fail to care about it.

After a while Champa says, solemn:

“Let’s go.”

And go they do.

* * *

They fly to the forest without thinking about it, but when Beerus realizes where they are going he urges Champa to keep flying north. Champa complains about being exhausted but he must feel whatever is calling Beerus away from there too, because he doesn’t put much heart on his protests and follows Beerus in silence.

He doesn’t know where they’re going but he thinks of the map spread over the table at the base, and his only coherent thought is that they’re going out of the country.

It’s not until Beerus almost falls from exhaustion and Champa has to hold him in the air to save him from certain dead, that they decided is time to take a break. There’s no one following at their backs or waiting for them ahead, so there’s no rush, anyway.

At this point the sky is completely dark and three of the four moons are hiding behind a ton of mean looking clouds.

They’ve left any piece of recognizable land mark, Beerus isn’t sure if they’re out of the border yet but they’re at least farthest from their cave that they’ve ever been. Here there is no forest, the mountains are shadowy behemoths in the distance, and the plains full of blooming, colorful flowers don’t seem to offer any kind of refuge.

While they fly however, Champa holding Beerus in case he wants to faint again, they see a bunch of trees around a small pond and they decide that will have to do.

They land silently at the shore of the lake, and the first thing Beerus does is fall to his knees and drink with his hands in desperate, erratic motions. Champa sits beside him with a tired sigh and comments the water doesn’t look that clean.

Beerus says they’ve had far worst and Champa agrees, crawling to the shore the get his share too.

After that they clean their wounds the best they can and then chose a big, old tree to sleep under.

Sleep finds them easily, and they cuddle against each other like they did when they were younger. None of them has the energy to complain or say something about it, so they simply slide their arms around each other, mindful of their injures, and let fatigue take them away from the waking world.

* * *

Beerus dreams of himself. It’s the same dream that lately plagues his nights, of the world in top of an inverted pyramid, of the temple build in the dead tree, of the green trees and the blue lake and himself, looking calm and contemplative and _small_.

This time, however, the dream changes drastically and when the scenery changes he doesn’t remember watching himself on that ethereal world.

When the scenery changes he finds himself at the mercenary base, or what is left of it. He walks through its fallen walls and broken floors, he walks slowly and calmly and watches with indifference the scattered bodies.

Some of them are merely laying on the ground, like they’re sleeping, others lay in unnatural, sickly positions and others, the unfortunate ones, are losing a limb, or two, or half their bodies.

He doesn’t remember the fight being this bloody, but it probably was.

While he walks he encounters a head on top of some rubble, and though he knows he knew that person, he can’t place their name.

He keeps advancing until he gets out of what’s left of the facility but instead of encountering what he knows it’s outside, he finds himself at the abandoned town near the forest, or more accurately he finds himself at the crater he left there.

He flies into the sky, thought it feels more like he jumped and the ground got away from him, and he looks at the crater and the destroyed building. There are bodies here too, scattered across the building and the crater and it doesn’t faze him that they shouldn’t be there.

He only thinks about how small they look. How small, and how easy it was to do this, how easy it would be to do it again.

* * *

Beerus wakes up moments before sunrise. Under the tree he can see part of the sky starting to clear, the velvety darkness turning into hazy pink. He contemplates that slow but unstoppable change in silence, with only the faint noise of Champa’s breathing at his side.

He doesn’t stop to think about how they’re still holding each other and when he feels how chilly is the air, he just snuggles into him in search of warm.

The birds that surely make of these trees their home start to chirp and sing, announcing officially the start of a new day. Champa stirs at his side and thought he doesn’t want to just yet, Beerus lets go of him.

“I’m hungry,” Champa says.

“Me too,” Beerus agrees and they slowly get up.

They get near the pond to drink some water and wash their faces. According to the reflection on the surface they don’t look as bad as they feel so they hope their wounds will heal on their own.

Champa puts his hands on his hips and scans the terrain.

“Where the hell are we?” He asks, thought he doesn’t seem that preoccupied about it.

“I don’t know, somewhere north of the forest.” Beerus answers, looking around too.

He didn’t think much about where they were going last night, he only knew he wanted to get away from the base, from the City, from the forest. The idea of crossing the border seemed tempting last night but now that he entertains the thought with a less tired mind, he wonders what would be so different from being on this side or the other.

The arbitrary division of land always seemed kind of stupid to him, anyway.

In any case, the only important thing about their whereabouts is that, still in the country or not, they don’t know this area well and finding food or a better refuge will be a problem.

They check the trees to see if something grows in them, and after eating some not yet ripped fruits to calm their stomachs they fly to scout the area.

There’s nothing but long, unchanging plains as far as the eye can see, covered in all kind flowers and the occasional pile of trees. They fly aimlessly for a while but they don’t even caught sight of some animal to hunt and at the end return to the small pond.

They sit but its shore in silence, or as silently as their empty stomachs that growl in protests every once in a while, allow them.

It feels like they should say something, like it would be appropriate to do that. After all they just killed the people that, for years, took care of them. The people that saw them, scrawny and dirty as they were, and still thought they were worth something. Yes, the mercenaries were ultimately looking for their own gains, but they still fed them, educated them, still were attentive to their needs, still made them part of their _family_.

And they just killed them. They burned to the ground the building were they lived through the most embarrassing stages of their puberty, where they ate and slept and talked with their fellow mercenaries, where they learnt all they know about proper fighting, where they, to simply put it, grew up.

Who knows what could’ve become of them if they hadn’t help them out that day in the City. Maybe Beerus would’ve die for real and Champa would’ve been left alone in the world or maybe both of them would’ve live to come back to their cave, back to their small world.

Beerus doesn’t know if it was a good thing, that the mercenaries saved them, that Ruum talked to them that day and offered them more of what they could’ve ever dreamt. He doesn’t know if it would’ve been better to stay in their cave, in the woods, to live there as part of the background.

He doesn’t know but, at this very moment, it feels like it would’ve been better, like it’s a life he would prefer over this one.

He talks to himself, in his head, in the silence-not-silence of nature, over the sound of his hunger, he talks to himself and says: it had to be done. It had to be done because they were going to kill him, they were going to kill Champa, because the mercenaries looked at them once more and instead of seeing the hungry children worthy of consideration, they saw danger, they saw a menace, a liability to their purposes, a problem to be deal with, something expendable than no longer useful was easily discard.

It was the mercenaries or him and his brother, and the chose was obvious.

Still…

Maybe the appropriate thing to do at this moment would be to cry. Beerus cried when he woke up in the cave and realized what had happened, he cried at the betrayal, at the perspective of his brother being dead too.

Today, maybe he should cry too, because he killed Ruum, he looked her dead in the eye and killed her.

Still, the tears don’t come. At least they don’t come for him because Champa, at his side, weeps. He lets his tears fall through his cheeks, facing the lake and not muttering even the quietest of cries; he’s probably afraid Beerus would tease him about it, but Beerus wouldn’t dare, not now at the very least.

“You know,” Champa says after a while, his voice tight and small “I’m glad you’re not dead and all but this…”

He swallows his words, whatever they may be, considers them more carefully and finally shakes his head in resignation.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Champa repeats, solemnly, clenching his fists “I’m glad you’re alive,” he rephrases and leaves it at that.

Beerus nods. He thinks he knows what he’s brother was going to say because he believes it too, but is grateful that Champa didn’t say it and sealed it as fact. His brother can be considerate when he really wants to.

“I’m sorry,” Beerus says anyway, because it feels appropriate, because he’s sorry indeed, though he’s not so sure what he’s sorry for.

Is it for Champa? Is it for himself? Is it for the life they don’t have anymore? Is it for having to kill Ruum? Is it for burning the building?

Is it for the destruction they left? Is it because the destruction works way too well as a metaphor of their lives?

Champa sighs, cleans his face with the back of his hand.

“Shut up,” he says, his voice more in its usual tone, thought he very obviously avoids looking at Beerus “let’s just find something to eat, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Beerus retorts without meaning too.

“And you’re always being a pain the—” Champa interrupts himself, like he wants to scream at Beerus but for some reason can’t bring himself to actually do it “Let’s just get out of here and look for food.”

Beerus nods and once more they take off. This time they keep flying north instead of just around their temporary refuge and as they advance, without looking back, the scenery changes again.

Soon they find themselves surrounded by mountains covered in red pines. It’s a different kind of forest from the one they’re used to but they think they will be luckier finding food here.

They’re right, since just an hour after arriving they kill a big bear-like creature and have a feast.

The taste of this new meat is good, different from what they know, but still good. They eat in silence and then look for a place to stay; they sleep in the hollow of a huge, dead tree and Beerus doesn’t dream.

It’ll be a while until he dreams again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how this story goes, I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading, every comment will be appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everyone! :3

 

Time passes and things change, and sometimes Beerus still thinks of the simpler life he used to have in a smaller world. There is, sometimes, something like yearning taking home inside his heart but it doesn’t stay for long.

After all, Beerus isn’t that sure what he even yearns for. The life they have now is good and there’s little to envy of their past with the mercenaries; they made a home here in these mountains covered in pines and the land has been gentle with them.

They built an actual house this time, with wood they cut down themselves, near a small stream. They spend their days doing the daily chores a life in nature requires or sparring. Sometimes they go to the nearest town, a small village also in the mountains which habitants are kind, welcoming and warm.

One day the woman that sells them vegetables told them about an old vacant house, but both of them rejected the offer. The small town is a closed knitted community, everyone knows each other and they look after their neighbors as they would for their family. It reminds them a little of how the mercenaries were, or how they appeared to be, and thought the idea of belonging once more is tempting, the wound in their hearts is still a little too fresh.

Sometimes Beerus thinks it should’ve already heal. It’s been a few years already and it feels like forever ago when they fought for their lives and let only a destroyed building behind them.

Sometimes, Beerus thinks, the memory shouldn’t hurt like it does.

Champa doesn’t talk about it, in the same fashion as the theme of their mother used to be taboo, they don’t talk about what happened, about what they did, about the blood on their hands. All they had to say about it was exchanged that day by the shore of a small, nameless lake: I’m glad you’re alive; I’m sorry.

Their sentiments about it haven’t change, Beerus is still sorry and Champa is very glad his brother isn’t dead.

Still, their simple, good life here in the mountains, can taste bitter for time to time. Beerus doesn’t know why, since their life is still good, it isn’t exciting and full of challenges and new discoveries as it were when they were with the mercenaries, but it’s good, and it should be enough.

When he was with the mercenaries, there were times he yearned for the simple live in their cave, and thinks that maybe because they had a taste of how life was outside of their small world, they can’t get back to enjoy the simplicity of being part of the background.

But life it’s good, he thinks, and it should be enough.

* * *

People are always longing for something more; they can have everything one could ask for and they still will      want more.

So life is good but it’s not good enough, or maybe not they type of good that would put their hearts at ease.

Beerus finds himself, more often than not, looking for whatever is missing in his calm, simple, good life. He can’t believe it at all when he seems to find it in the most unexpected task.

The mountain range extends for miles at west and if Beerus flies following the red forest, he will eventually find the sea. The first time he saw it he stayed for the longest of times sat in a rock watching the waves unfold, somehow hypnotized by its rhythmic, constant movement.

At first, simply coming here and watching the ocean seemed to offer him solace, but with time he discovered it wasn’t enough. There was something about the sea that attract him, that beckon him to come here almost daily, but he couldn’t place it.

Eventually he found what it was. He came to the ocean and sat in the same rock he sat everyday but this day the sea wasn’t in a good mood and a storm broke in the distance. Beerus watched in stunned silence how the storm advanced, full of force and uncaring of whatever was in its way. The storm, that soon enough reached the shore, was one of this things that simply was.

Not only that, but when it came at him at full force and made the waves so tall they almost drown him, and made the rain so hard it almost hurt, and made the winds so fast he almost fall, Beerus realized how destructive it was, what it could do.

It was both a shame and blessing that there wasn’t any town at the shore, because the storm would’ve let nothing in its wake.

It was weird for Beerus to find himself flying away from the storm and its destruction, and remembering the crater and the devastated mercenary building.

He realized, that day, what was he longing for.

So now he comes here, to the shore too, sometimes he watches the ocean and that’s it, but other days he feels a tingling running through his hands, something whispering from his heart, asking him to act. Beerus can do nothing but to answer such pleads.

Sometimes he thinks of the very real possibility someone else frequents these lands too and wonders, if they see this, if they see what I’ve done here, what would they think?

The answer is unknown to him, of course, but it still fills him with some sort of perverse satisfaction to think about it. The same kind of perverse satisfaction that swells inside of him as he watches what he’s done.

Anyone that were to lay his eyes upon the beach would think there was a fight, and all-out war even, but in truth the only responsible is him, him, his way too powerful hands and an acquired taste for destruction.

What it means, he doesn’t know. It’s one of those things that simply are, too.

* * *

Champa, he muses, must be having similar escapades, if not he wouldn’t come home smelling of fire and, sometimes, blood. Beerus doesn’t judge whatever he has decide to do with his free time, though he does wonders why.

Why have they chose to do this, when once upon a time they worried about the accidental destruction their power could provoke. Maybe, he thinks, it’s the mercenaries fault, didn’t they show them to use their strength with this very purpose in mind? To be stronger than anyone else? To be unstoppable? To be as a storm?

Beerus can only guess. Sometimes his guesses feel more as self-indulgent excuses, but he cannot know for sure. Besides who would he excuse himself for? Champa will not judge him or even question him, and the people at the town cannot know of this and even if they knew, would their scorn stop him? Would their fear?

He thinks not, with some of that perverse satisfaction.

His mind does that, sometimes. It takes him to dark places and dangerous thoughts. It’s been more apparent lately that he has given in in the temptation of going far away somewhere, not only the poor and tattered beach, killing and destroying whatever is there.

Is especially evident when he’s actually killing or destroying something. A dark part of himself mutters to him questions that he’s not so sure he wants to answer, or at least he doesn’t want to answer them after he’s done with his destroying, because when he’s in the middle of it, oh, how tempting it would be to pay heed to them and go discover the response.

Is this enough? Asks that part of himself, is this enough for you? Wouldn’t you like to see how the town would look in flames? Wouldn’t you like to kill someone again? Just to see what happens?

Wouldn’t you like it?

Maybe.

Usually that part of himself quiets down once he’s done with his irrational (because they’re irrational) acts of destruction, and when he gets home and he and Champa live their simple, good life, the enquiries go to the back of his mind, almost forgotten.

They always come back, of course, in the middle of whatever he’s doing when he destroys.

* * *

“Have you heard?” says the vegetable seller when they go to town for their monthly supply “Of the calamity?”

Beerus and Champa stay for a few days at town every time they go, and they make money helping people with tasks that require strength. The folks around here are different from the ones in the City and they don’t seem to be familiar with ki control, so there’s a lot for them to do here. The people is always happy when they come over, since their abilities come in handy.

“Calamity?” Champa repeats, frowning.

“Oh, you haven’t heard then,” says the woman, putting in a basket what they usually buy “I mean, living that far up into the mountain, it make sense.”

“What is this calamity?” Beerus intervenes then, not wanting the woman to diverge too much from the subject “Did something happen here?”

“Oh, no, thank the Gods it haven’t. But a lot of areas around here have been devastated.”

“Is that so?” says Beerus, perfectly feigning surprise. Champa, at his side, intelligently remains silent.

“I’m afraid it is,” says the woman shaking her head to the sides “if you go west of here there’s a beach, the last time someone was there, the place was unrecognizable. And the valleys at the foot of the mountain, they’re full of craters, and the forest at east are burned to the ground. It’s horrible.”

“We haven’t heard any of that,” continues Beerus “sounds bad.”

Actually it sounds terrific, but he keeps that thought to himself.

 “Very bad indeed. No one knows what is been provoking all of this. People is afraid, those places are really close by, and we may be the next place the calamity hits.”

She hands them their purchase.

“Does anyone have a guess about what this ‘calamity’ is?” Beerus asks as he pays.

“No one knows for sure, and you know how the people are, they talk,” she shrugs and then looks at the side, and quietly adds, “but some say the Gods aren’t happy with us right now, that this may be punishment. There’s been more offerings at the temple lately so…if you want, maybe you can go offer a pray too. Just in case.”

Beerus nods.

They move away from the stall in unusual silence, considering the words of the seller.

“Maybe we should pay a visit to the temple,” Beerus chirps up after a while.

Champa snorts.

“Oh, so you gonna pray for the ‘calamity’ to stop?” he says quietly with a smile “You can just ask, you know.”

Beerus laughs too, enjoying the dark humor of their conversation.

“I had no idea you were going to the valley,” he comments casually “I thought going up and down of the mountain would be too much work for you.”

Champa nudges him playfully with an elbow.

“It’s closer than the beach,” he says “and besides, there’s a lot of big animals there.”

This catches Beerus’ attention.

“There are?”

Champa smiles cheekily.

“They like putting up a fight too.”

“I’ll…like to see.”

“Sure. But I’d like to see what you did to the beach, too.”

“Is not that impressive,” Beerus shrugs off “‘unrecognizable’ is too big of a word. I mean, you can still tell it’s a beach.”

Champa laughs heartily and follows his brother to the temple.

The temple is a small, wooden structure at the entrance of the town. It doesn’t have a door but only a curtain made of the finest clothes the town’s people could get, the symbol of the gods embroidered with golden thread.

Inside, the temple is humble but well kept. In the walls are similar drapes, each one embroidered with the symbol of every individual god, and in the center there’s a stair with three steps guiding to the altar: a small fountain of crystalline water, and hanging from the ceiling, on top of it, a bell.

The smell of incense fills the air and the smoke of it accumulates heavily in the small room.

They enter the temple in silence, looking as respectful as they’re expect to look like, but the moment they’re in and they make sure they’re alone, both of them snicker.

Beerus walks mockingly serious to the altar. He doesn’t know how praying works, but he isn’t really praying so he just does the first thing that comes to his mind. He puts his hands together and says:

“Oh, gods, please stop my brother for destroying the valley, he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” his voice dramatic and falsely pleading.

Champa laughs at him and goes to his side.

“You don’t know how to pray, look,” he says, kneels at the altar and throws his hand the sky “Please! Oh great gods, stop the calamity! Stop me and my brother…if you can!”

Beerus snorts and tries to don’t have a laughing attack, knowing someone could come by and hear them from outside. Both of them spend a lot of time trying to regain his composure.

They leave the temple then, all serious and respectful as they should look, the smell of incense stuck to their clothes.

They leave, blissfully unaware that, at the other side of the drape, someone did hear them.

* * *

“You were right,” Champa says with a bored sigh “it’s not that impressive.”

Both of them went to the beach since Champa wanted to see what he had done, and Beerus has to admit that the last time he came here, it did look more impressive: There wasn’t any sand!

But today there’s plenty of sand, and though there are a couple of craters here and there, and the nearest cliffs don’t look like cliffs anymore, and the nearby flora will never be the same again, the place looks pretty…normal.

It’s like, just because he was away for a while, nature had put things back into place.

“I’ll show you impressive,” Beerus says and goes to stand at the shore “how much you want to bet I can split the ocean with one attack?”

Champa scoffs, incredulous.

“One attack? C’mon.”

“What?” Beerus says, speaking louder to be heard over the waves crash and turning his head to smile cheekily at his brother “You already know you’re going to lose?”

Champa pouts and then goes to stand next to him.

“Okay, but don’t cry when you lose,” he says “show me, one attack, and I wanna se the ocean floor!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beerus retorts “You won’t see it this high up.”

“Yeah, yeah, juts get onto it.”

Beerus shakes his head, but then faces the sea and takes several deep, breaths. He has done this before, just to see if he could, so he’s confident he will show his brother how impressive looks like. Still, he takes his time preparing his energy, even though he can hear Champa impatiently tapping his foot against the ground.

“Okay,” he says after a moment “stand back.”

Champa rolls his eyes but does as he’s told and stands a few steps behind his brother.

Beerus then drops into a fighting position and starts accumulating his ki on one hand. The ball of energy in his palm isn’t big, but it’s really shiny and it seems to be having a hard time keeping its spherical form. Seeing this, Champa takes another step back.

When Beerus feels the attack ready he pushes it forward. The attack comes out as a beam that extends for miles and eventually explodes in the distance, but as it passes over the ocean it breaks it apart, effectively diving as it flies, rising enormous waves at its side.

It only lasts a few seconds, but the division is clear. The ocean floor isn’t visible, of course, because the force needed for that would likely destroy a continent or something, but is still possible to watch into the abyss. Champa makes a shocked noise at the back of his throat and Beerus smiles.

When the waves come down, the sound of all the water hitting down is almost unbearable. They also have to go in the air to avoid being drown by them.

“Well,” Beerus says as both of them watch the water settle “what do you think?”

Champa is dumbstruck and can’t seem to find his words, until he lays his eyes over Beerus and notices how damn proud of himself he looks.

“Not bad,” he says, hiding his amazement “I mean, I didn’t see the ocean floor so I guess it’s okay.”

“So, about that bet—”

“We didn’t bet anything!” Champa interrupts him.

Beerus laughs, satisfied enough with his brother’s reaction.

* * *

Nature has had a harder time putting back together the valley, Beerus notices when they go there, but it is still no sight to behold. He says Champa this.

“C’mon, admit it, it looks great!” Champa retorts.

Beerus clicks his tongue. Great isn’t the word he would use to describe what he sees here, it seems to him that his brother put little thought on what he was doing. Not like Beerus thinks much when he destroys, but his brother’s doing seems…tasteless to him, who knows why.

“Where are the animals?” Beerus asks.

“Mmm, well, I think we should go north to find them, they’ve run away and they don’t come here often anymore.”

Understandable. Beerus also kills animals when he finds them, and he’s sure he has kill them without noticing too, but what he’s found both in the mountains and the beach are usually small ones. Champa says the animals here were big, and he feels like he wants to know what it feels like to kill something bigger than him.

He has also done that before, killing something bigger than him but he usually did it with his brother’s help and out of necessity, and this new perverse satisfaction he’s found on killing wants to see how it feels like now.

So, he follows Champa through the devastated valley and eventually they found something like an overgrown lizard. The moment it sees them come at it, it growls in warning and his skin changes color to scare them away, but both of them just keep going at it.

Champa allows him the honor, since it’s his first time here. Beerus hits he lizard, testing how much it can take and it his him back with its tail. Champa laughs and Beerus smiles, pleasantly surprise.

Still, the more he hits it, the lizard gets more tired and its own attacks inaccurate and sloppy. It’s almost sad seeing it like this, so Beerus finishes it with a ki blast.

He watches the corpse and analyzes what he feels.

“Do you think it’s edible?” he asks Champa.

His brother shrugs.

“We can find out.”

They take some parts of the corpse home, and when Champa asks him about what he thinks, Beerus says it was fun.

Fun. What a peculiar way to describe what he feels when he does this.

* * *

Not long after they shared what they’ve done with each other, Beerus wakes up in the middle of the night to the smell of burning wood. It smells hot and heavy, the way it fills up the air reminds him of the bonfires he and his brother used to light in their cave.

The smell is familiar and for a moment he considers this to be a dream of the past, something that lures him to sleep deeply, with the familiarity of it.

He remembers, if ever ashamed, of how cold their room at the mercenary base felt at first. They slept with the light on the first few nights, but even that wasn’t enough. They missed the light of the bonfire, its warm presence. They longed for it and the memory of its smell, of its heat lured them to sleep.

Just like this sudden memory pretends too.

But since it is something from such a distant past, Beerus realizes how it’s easy for him to don’t cling to it, to don’t chase after it. How easy is to open his eyes leisurely in the dark and question why his mind brings such remembrances here now, when he doesn’t need them anymore to find his way to the oneiric realm.

He realizes then, when he opens his eyes, that it wasn’t his mind the one that conjured this old, familiar smell to him. It couldn’t be anyway, since he’s beyond of all it, now.

Rather, it was reality the one manifesting this. He opens his eyes and sees the heavy smoke that floods the room, the flames that lick at his door, threating with entering at any moment.

He gets up in and instant and without a second thought breaks the wall with a hit, since his brother’s bedroom is next to his. Champa is still sleeping soundly, ignorant of the fire, and Beerus rushes to him.

“Champa, wake up!” He screams at him, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him “Wake up!”

Champa opens his eyes and the first thing he does is give him dirty look.

“What the hell is your problem?” He mumbles “Why—?”

“The house is on fire!” Beerus interrupts before he can say anything else “Get up! We have to get out!”

“Wha—?!” Champa chokes on his questions but gets out of bed in an instant.

By then the flames chew completely at Champa’s door and the fire comes in, blasting with all its might. They don’t think about it when they simply go flying out of the window and into the night sky.

From here they can see how half of their house is already nothing but giant fire wall, its light illuminating the night with its deadly brightness. The heat of the fire reaches them, even though they’re so high, and it warms their staggered faces.

“Champa,” Beerus is the first one to talk after a while “did you forget to turn off the stove?”

“WHAT?!” Champa screams, indignant “Of course no! Why are you blaming me?!”

“Because it wouldn’t be the first time you forget!” Beerus reminds him mercilessly.

“Maybe! But that’s still no reason to blame me for this! Did you remember to turn it off?!”

“I didn’t cook today!”

They bicker and yell at each other for a while, trying to find the culprit of this mess. Meanwhile the house continues burning and they do nothing to stop it. In the middle of their fight, they even allow the fire to start eating away at the forest, but even when they notice they ignore it.

After a while, their discussion ends up in an actual, physical fight, the sound of the flames consuming the forest as their background sound.

* * *

After their fight leaves them quite tired and injured, they spend the night in the forest. At the middle of the night came a lot of heavy rain, so the fire was quietly put out, like it was never there.

The next day they go to see the remnants of their house, to check if there’s anything worth saving. It isn’t.

Champa walks slowly through the wreckage, silent. He watches with sad eyes the rests of their house, kicking pieces of debris out his way with a dejected attitude. Last night he didn’t seem to care much, but now that they aren’t fighting and everything is calm, the reality of it seems to sink in. It was a place they built themselves, and it was theirs in every extension of the word. It feels wrong seeing it like this.

On his part, Beerus thinks about how different is to lay his eyes upon this. It’s not the first time he sees the aftermath of a fire, but usually he’s the one provoking the fire; this in the other hand happened for god knows what reason, and he realizes he doesn’t like it at all, that this destruction took place and that he wasn’t the one doing it.

He didn’t feel like this when he saw what Champa did, though.

“Hey! Beerus!” calls Champa suddenly “Come check this out!”

He goes to where his brother stands, near the place their main door used to be. Upon his arrival Beerus doesn’t notice anything out of ordinary, just a bunch of blackened, burned wood, but Champa urges him to come closer to him.

“What is it?” Beerus asks.

“Don’t you notice?” Champa says “The smell?”

At that Beerus closes his eyes and breaths deeply from his nose. It smells of fire, of burnt wood and…he frowns, trying to identify the almost imperceptible scent that impregnates the place. It takes him a while, but eventually he opens his eyes and looks at his brother, surprised.

“Incense?”

“And not just any incense!”

No, it isn’t just any incense, but rather is like the one they burn at the small temple, in the town.

“I think,” Beerus says slowly then “we’ll have to pay another visit to the temple.”

Champa ponders this for a while and finally says, solemn:

 “I guess so.”

It’s like destiny wants Beerus to find out the answer to all those thoughts that lately plague his mind.

But he doesn’t think about destiny, so he can’t tell at all.

* * *

When they step into the village, the townsfolk look at them like they’re seeing a ghost because of course, they should be dead.

The people that notice them look at them with big eyes and hanging mouths, some whisper something that sounds like a prayer, maybe a curse, and then run away for them. They walk, calm, watching their reactions carefully.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the temple, and by now enough people has seen them to spread the word through all town.

In the inside the temple is as boring as ever.

“Why are we here?” Champa asks, dejected. He hasn’t share with Beerus his thoughts in this whole matter, but if Beerus had to guess, Champa is obviously sad about it.

Beerus not so much. He laments the loss of the house, it was weeks of hard work gone to waste, and he laments also having to come to town and do something about it, since everyone has been so nice to them, but in all honestly he’s more curious about what payback is going to give him. There are these thoughts in his mind, murmuring about what would happen if he just let go for a moment, and this gives him the perfect opportunity.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Beerus asks his brother “We came to check if the incense we found is the same here.”

Champa frowns at that.

“You know it is,” he says.

Beerus licks his lips. He’s paying little attention to Champa, that has start complaining about something, and instead focuses his ears in the outside of the temple. He can hear murmurs and people gathering around.

Of course they would try to kill them here, then, even if it meant disgracing their place of worship, it’s obviously more important to dismiss the heretics than keeping up an old wooden temple.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Champa screams, annoyed.

“No,” Beerus answers, and shots a ki blast at the wall.

Champa watches attentively and then, when the smoke clears, they both see the dead body of a man in the floor, a burning torch in his hand.

“You would think they wouldn’t try the same thing twice,” Beerus comments.

“You!” A woman exclaims from the entrance “You two are the Calamity!”

“We are,” Beerus says, turning and then walking towards her.

She scatters somewhere, both of them get out of the temple and see all the people that has come here, most of them with torches in their hands and frightened but determined look on their faces.

“Why?!” a young man screams and them “Why has the Calamity fallen over us?!”

Beerus watches the man, pondering the question.

“We’re no calamity!” Champa screams then, contradicting what his brother said.

“Lies!” retorts an old woman “You’re the ones that have been destroying the forest, the valley, the beach! You’re the Calamity!”

“Well, yeah,” Champa says, like he’s ashamed “but we’re no calamity! We did that because…” his voice gets low and he looks around, like he’s looking for what he wanted to say.

Because why indeed?

“Because you’re the Calamity,” says the same woman again, with utmost security.

Champa looks at her, pondering her words.

“Why have you come?” asks a man then, calling their attention to the other side of the crowd “Why did the Gods send you?”

“Do you think your gods sent us?” Beerus intervenes then, because that is an interesting thought.

The man seems taken aback by his questions, gulps and seems unable to hold Beerus’ gaze.

“Why try to kill your god’s messengers, then?” Beerus continues.

“Because you’re no messengers,” says the old woman “you’re a catastrophe, a curse that has fallen over us.”

“We never harmed anyone in this town,” Beerus retorts “and we didn’t intend to.”

The resolution of the townsfolk seems to falters at these words, because its truth Beerus and Champa never did anything to endanger the town, and their presence was actually beneficial for them. They interchange doubtful looks and whispers.

“Do not listen to them!” says another voice, in the back of the crowd “they’re trying to deceive you all.”

Pushing people around to open his way, comes an old man dressed in ceremonial-looking clothes. He steps out of the crowd and stands before them with security.

“Haven’t they deceive us all this time?” he asks at the people “they pretended they were normal folks, but they can do things we can’t, even though they look the same as us, and didn’t I told you of their mockery at our Temple?”

“Who are you?” Beerus asks then, seeing how the mere presence of the man makes the crowd recover quickly of their brief doubt.

“Of course you wouldn’t know,” says the man “I’m the main priest at this town, and I heard you too pretending to pray, I heard how you gloated about your abhorrent actions!”

“So all of this is your fault,” says Beerus “our burnt house and this…warm welcome.”

“I know you’re not messengers of the gods,” says the man instead of acknowledging what he said “I know you’re not here to punish us, I know this is not a curse.”

“Oh?” Beerus exclaims quietly “then what is this? What are we?”

Champa tries to call his brother attention and say something, but whatever it is he lets it die before it leaves his lips, closes his mouth and bares himself for the answers of the priest.

“You should be demons,” the man says, quietly too, like he’s sharing with them some kind of secret “and I don’t know why you came here or why you did what you did, but I know that you’re doing it for your own, selfish desires, not higher reason.”

“You got us there,” Beerus says, cynically.

“So,” the man says with fatality “you should ask yourselves whose fault is this.”

He probably should.

* * *

The sun is setting when they go.

They head for the ocean without really thinking about it, and they have a glimpse of Beerus’ disaster of a beach when they make it to the coast but none of them pays it more attention than necessary.

They fly over the water, the setting sun dyeing the waves with hues of pink, of orange, of dying red.

They fly low enough to feel the salty breeze and catch the smell of fish, low enough that the big waves splash them with blood, colored droplets.

Beerus watches the ever moving surface of the water and thinks of diving in. Thinks the water should be cold because the breeze makes him shiver as night falls, thinks the shock would awaken him of the stupor he finds himself in.

Thinks the water would wash away the blood clinging to his clothes, would take away the smell of burnt skin and burnt wood and burnt incense.

Thinks the water should help but also thinks that, if he dives in, he may drown. Thinks the world would turn upside down and that when he tries to go up he would actually get deeper and deeper into the water. Thinks he would see the stars inside the ocean, thinks he would try to chase after them and thinks he would drown.

He doesn’t know why he thinks that but the thought is powerful and unquestionable, so he simply keeps advancing.

The day has come and gone, and then he and his brother fly over the ocean, that never seems to end, watched by the four moons in the sky. There are times Champa seems to want to say something, but ultimately reminds silent and awkward at this his side, and Beerus doesn’t prompt him to talk either, too occupied with his own thoughts about drowning and blood and questions it was better to left unanswered.

He can’t say he feels guilty about what they just did. He can’t say he wishes they wouldn’t have. He can say, however, that he wishes it wasn’t so meaningless.

When they killed the mercenaries, when they destroyed the base, there was a reason for it. And he guesses there was a reason too for them to look for places to destroy and animals to kill, even if the reason was to feed something unknown inside them.

And there was a reason for doing this too, didn’t they burn their house? Didn’t they try to kill them? Didn’t they call them a calamity, a curse, demons?

It should be reason enough and yet, it feels like it isn’t.

Beerus doesn’t understand it but even if he doesn’t, he’s unable to shake the feeling of wrongness that washes over him. Champa should be feeling like that too.

“Hey,” Beerus stops, slowly decelerating until he’s floating in the air.

Champa stops meters in front of him and has to come back.

“What?” he asks, tired.

“I’m sorry,” Beerus, looking at the ocean that now reflects the stars.

Champa frowns.

“What for?”

“I…,” Beerus stutters, thinking hard and long about his answer “it felt appropriate.” He says at the end.

Champa looks at him for a long while, trying to decipher his meaning. He sighs deeply after a while and looks at the moons in the sky, his face basked in silver light.

“Do you need a hug?”

“What the—?!” Beerus says, tired too.

Champa laughs, dry and with little joy behind it. He still doesn’t look at his brother.

“It is appropriate, I guess” he says after a while.

“Let’s just keep going,” Beerus answers at that, not really knowing what he was expecting the other to say but feeling satisfied with this.

Champa nods and they continue to move forward over the endless ocean.

Their advance doesn’t stop until very late at night and they don’t stop because they’re tired or because they feel they’ve gotten far enough, but rather because they catch eye of an island, the only one in miles and miles and miles of water.

A small island with a small house. It calls for them though they don’t know why, their bodies moving almost on their own and Beerus feels the pang of a not so old memory stirring at this, a conversation about the strings of destiny pulling at him.

But he doesn’t think about it, so he can’t tell for sure.

* * *

The moment they set foot in the white sand of the island they get the impression that they shouldn’t but they’ve never been ones to do what one should, so they give some steps forward, watching around the island.

In the middle of the island there’s a big formation of rocks that looks very much like a house. It is rounded, though a little irregular, and there’s the entrance to a cave that’s just the size and form of a door. There are two rocks of medium size at the side of this door and they almost seemed craved to have triangular shape.

With only the silver shine of the moons as source of light the place appears of supernatural quality, and the sound of the waves crashing ever so lightly on the sand just increments the effect.

“What is this place?” Champa asks, giving some steps towards the cave.

Beerus finds interesting the way he has decide to ask that, since it suggests this is just not island and they’re watching just not a cave.

“I don’t know,” he says, walking behind his brother, because he too has the same feeling.

They approach the cave and peek inside for both sides of the entrance. Inside they find a small, very circular pond of water, just under a small, very circular opening in the ceiling of the cave that allows the light inside.

This is not the most peculiar thing about the cave, however, but rather than at the back of it, across from the entrance, there is a door.

They interchange a look before making his way into the cave. They walk, and even though they’re steps are light over the sand, the tiny, rasping sound of it echoes in rock walls.

The door is craved in wood, circular at the top and with fine lines of gold painted in the edges. The pommel is made of wood too and doesn’t have lock.

For a moment they entertain the possibility that it was simply resting against the wall, but upon further inspection they see it is actually engraved in the stone. Champa gives it an experimental knock and it answers them with a hollow sound, which mean there’s a room at the other side.

It doesn’t make sense however, since they saw this place from above and there wasn’t nothing in this island but the small, circular cave.

Beerus takes the pommel and tries to twist it, but it barely moves under his grip.

“What do you think is at the other side?” Beerus says, looking at the door and its delicate golden paintings.

“I don’t know,” Champa says, looking at it too “maybe we could blast it open?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Says a voice behind them.

They turn on their heels and drop into a fighting stance immediately, startled by the sudden intruder.

Before them, at the other side of the pond, stands a man…or a woman, it’s hard to tell. Their features are androgynous and their voice is neither high nor grave, and the blue tunic they wear is thick and doesn’t show the shape of their body.

“What do you want?” asks Beerus, wary of the stranger and their sudden, noiseless apparition.

“Nothing at all,” they say “just wondering why you knocked.”

“Well…” Champa starts, looking at Beerus for back up but his brother is too busy keeping an eye on the stranger “we were just…exploring around.”

“Ah, I see then,” says the stranger “and how come did you find this place?”

“We were flying over the ocean and got curious of the island.”

The stranger nods.

“You didn’t have any direction I presume,” they say, looking carefully at them “and you were probably running away, too.”

At that Beerus remembers what a sight they should be, covered in dry blood and dirt, smelling of dead and decay. Anyone else would’ve avoid contact with them, but this person doesn’t seem fazed by their appearance, not even judgmental.

“We weren’t running away,” Beerus says forcefully, bothered by the comment.

The stranger smiles.

“Of course,” they say, condescending “that’s why you apologized with your brother on your way here.”

The stunned silence that follows is answer enough for such a statement. It isn’t hard to figure out that they’re twins, but to know that…

“Who are you?” Beerus asks with urgency. “How do you know that?”

“The answer to both question is tied, and you will find out soon enough,” says the stranger “for now, wouldn’t you like to come to my house? I will fix you both a bath and a meal, flying all the way here since sunset must have make you hungry.”

The stranger doesn’t wait for them to answers and simply walks towards the door. They step aside at their presence and watch them open the door by turning the knob that puts up no resistance.

When the door opens and they peek inside, they’re temporarily blind by how bright the light is at the other side. The stranger steps in.

“Come on in,” they say “make yourselves at home.”

Inside, they see the largest room they’ve ever seen, all illuminated with white light that comes from nowhere. The floor is covered in triangular tiles of varying shades of blue, at the center there is a pond too, circular and surrounded by vegetation, red trees with fruits and red bushes with berries. At the back of the enormous room they see a building, with domes and arcs and thin towers topped with more vegetation.

“What is this place?” Champa asks, slowly getting in. Beerus follows.

“My home”, answers the stranger with a kind smile “and yours too, if you want.”

* * *

Inside, the building is big and complex as a palace, it has long hallways covered in carpets of different colors, high ceilings from where round lamps hanging from them. Despite how it exudes luxury, they place has a welcoming vibe and it feels humble.  

The strangers offers them a bath inside a big room, most of it is covered in tiles of green and yellow that form flowers on the floor, the walls and the ceiling; the bathtub at the back of the room is huge and both of them fit easily inside.

The stranger leaves them alone, saying they go fetch some new clothes for both of them.

Beerus and Champa watch them go, wondering what in the world is going on. This place that appeared behind a door that shouldn’t have led anywhere, the stranger that holds knowledge they shouldn’t and, more importantly, how easy is for them to follow them.

They wanted be wary of the stranger, wanted to take their words with a grain of salt and wanted to, in a way, take advantage of the surreal situation they found themselves in, but the stranger gives off a calm, soothing energy and they feel, contrary to everything they’ve always believed, that they can trust the stranger.

It’s been a while since they’ve trusted anyone but each other.

Still, they silently agree to see where this goes and make us of the very tempting bath. They take out their clothes and leave them lying around without much care, they’re dirty and torn anyway, and then slip into the bath.

The hot water takes away the weariness they’ve been carrying since evening, it leaves their bodies alongside the steam that rises from the water.

Beerus watches, without knowing how to feel, how the surface of the water gets dyed with the dried blood that slowly leaves his skin. Champa is having a similar moment while he scrubs it away.

Beerus leans on the edge of the bathtub and breaths deeply, before start cleaning himself too.

The stranger doesn’t take much to come back, they enter the place and put some clothes over a nearby chair that, Beerus swears, wasn’t there before.

“Take your time here,” says the stranger “when you’re done, meet me at the end of the hallway, I’ll prepare you something to eat.”

Both of them mumble a sound of affirmation and the stranger goes away.

They don’t spend so much time on the bath anyway, the water doesn’t even seem to cold down, but now it is full of blood and dirt and staying to long would defeat the purpose of entering in the first place.

The clothes the stranger brought them are a pair of long white tunics, similar to the one the stranger uses, and they fit them perfectly.  

Once dressed they go out to the hallway and go to the last door at the end of it. There’re other doors along the walls, but they have the impression that all of them are tightly shut so they don’t bother inspecting them.

When they reach the end of the hallway, the door opens on its own accord and they exchange a look, still they enter the room. They’re welcomed by a long dining hall, with a long table with multiples chairs; at the other side of the table there’re various dishes and the stranger is sitting at the head of the table, waiting for them.

They take the sits that were obviously lay for them, each at one side of the stranger.

“Please,” the stranger says, waving to the food.

They don’t lose time and dig in in the variety of dishes on the table. All of it tastes really good and they’re vocal about it; the stranger smiles, pleased with their reactions and then starts eating too.

Once all of them are done, Beerus is the one that breaks the silence.

“Who are you?” he asks without any preamble, looking at the stranger intently “and what is this place?”

The strangers leans further in their chair and spends a few moments to gather their words.

“Your first question is hard to answer,” they say calmly “as for the second one, this place is a temple, of sorts. It’s a place that exists not in your planet, but also not anywhere else. It’s a breach in time and space but more importantly, it is my home, and it has been for a very long time.”

Beerus and Champa just look at them, a little confused by the description, they’re not familiar with such abstract ideas. At seeing their obvious disconcert, the stranger smiles.

“But those things, of course, would be of little matter to you. I guess you found your way here pretty much in the same way I did, so many years ago,” the stranger continues showing no desire to clarify “you two were lost and not lost in the typical sense, and because of that you found this place. Or rather this place found you.”

Beerus tries to say something, just to don’t stay there gaping like an idiot trying to wrap his head around what the other says, but the stranger holds up one hand to stop him from even taking the breath to talk.

“I know you both have a lot of questions. Worry not, all your questions will be answered in time but not tonight, you should be tired and the answers you seek will be better understood with a rested mind. I’ve prepared a bedroom for you, please” the stranger says getting up “follow me.”

It wasn’t an order but Beerus and Champa act on it like it was, getting up immediately and going behind the stranger. The stranger guides them towards the long hallways to one of the towers, where they walk circular stairs to the very top. There the stranger opens the door to a big bedroom; there are couches, a center table with a jar of water and glasses, over the night table are flowers and through the windows some plants from outside creep in. There’s only one, big bed.

Both of them are about to protest about that but the stranger beats them to it:

“This temple is a haven, in a way, a place to gather one’s thoughts, to rest and to find peace. The temple knows what you two need right now.”

Beerus looks at Champa and they exchange a look, as it to ask if this is really okay. It is.

The stranger smiles like they know what their stares meant. They probably do.

“Goodnight,” the stranger says heading to the door “We’ll speak tomorrow, over breakfast.”

The stranger goes, and the moment they close the door, the small chandelier on the ceiling lights up with hazy golden light.

They make their way to the bed and stare at it for a moment, like debating all this, but eventually they realized how tired they really are. Champa is the first to lift the covers to get into the bed and Beerus follows soon after.

They lay on their backs looking at the ceiling.

“What’s all this?” Champa murmurs.

“I don’t know,” Beerus answers, not having much else to say.

“It’s like…” Champa muses his words, bites his lower lip thinking hard about this “it’s like a dream.”

“You think?” Beerus questions quietly.

Champa shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says “I never remember my dreams.”

Beerus nods though his brother cannot see him.

“Do you think this person is trustworthy?” Beerus asks.

“I don’t think they aren’t. You?”

“I feel the same is like…” Beerus takes a deep breath “is not like I can trust them, it feels more like I should.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Champa says, but it’s not like a retort, just a simple fact.

They stay for a long time in silence but eventually Champa turns on his side and looks at Beerus.

“It’s been a while since we sleep together,” he comments, with that tone of voice that is quite and calm, so different for his usual one “not since…”

Beerus turns too and looks at his brother.

“It’s been a while,” is all Beerus says.

It feels like they should say more but, after a moment, both of them realize there’s nothing to say or, if there is, they’re unable to articulate it.

“Goodnight,” Beerus whispers.

“Goodnight,” Champa whispers back.

The lights go out as they close their eyes.

Over the course of the night they scoot closer and their arms find their way around each other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this, thanks for reading, every comment will be appreciate! <3


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